The Colour of Water
by QueenOfCitrus
Summary: GinHitsu:Toushiro is a very special boy, with a big talent and no luck at all. When he starts cleaning floors for money at the local stripper club, he expects to be doing just that - mopping floors. Fate has other plans though... And it doesn't help that the barman is so hot. M-rated; FINISHED!
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: __So I know a lot of people aren't fond of stripper stories, which is probably the reason why this is the first time I've dared to write one. I'm looking at this as a bit of a play actually, scoops from the whole story, so maybe in the end I'll add a "Missing Scenes" chapter or something. This is already looking like it's gonna be very long. This chapter alone is like a double chapter, it's consisted of 2 parts. There's just so much to happen, I'm not sure if I'll manage to put it all in a 2-shot like I wanted to. It's probably going to stretch to a 4chapter story the way I see it. With a lot of drama, drama, drama... But don't worry people, NO CHARACTER DEATH. I'm saying this for those who have read "Que Sera Sera" and might get scared due to the 'drama' warning._**

**_Okay, furthermore, the song I used here is "Back to Black" by Amy Winehouse. Let her rest in peace. She had a beautiful voice despite the drugs._**

**_For those who are wondering! Since I'm a big fan of both IchiHitsu and GinHitsu, I'm making the promised 'Colour' series a collection of two GinHitsu stories and two IchiHitsu ones. For good balance. _**

**_Now, as far as this story goes... I think it's safe to say that once again, I am experimenting. This is quite different from the stuff I've written so far and if you make it till the end, you'll see why. There will be a lemon towards last chapter... do I really even need to say that? Don't leave me any meanie reviews or I'll get upset and who knows what might happen then. The story's very narrative at times, but don't get scared. Support will be appreciated in all forms, okay? Now off you go, crazy bunnies!_**

**_Oh, and last, but not least, thanks to SirenShadow for the support, you are the best! :3_**

**_P.S. fucked up the summary but now it's all settled ^^_**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.  
><em>**

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><p>The Colour of Water<p>

**Act One:** "Nocturnal"

**1.**

…_I love you much  
>It's not enough<br>You love blow and I love puff  
>And life is like a pipe<br>And I'm a tiny penny rolling up the walls inside..._

The night was young and brave that damned Tuesday in the middle of the month, the full, silver body of the moon barely having had the time to settle down after tumbling across the ink-coloured sky to hang curiously over the heads of the people. The air around the city was yet to acquire its thick, concentrated tinge, the syrupy texture that claimed the beginning of another nocturnal paradise. The clubs were barely coming to life, their soft hum slowly blossoming to a buzz, to a purr, to a _roar_, like the stages of a wild cat, waking up from its deep slumber to find a lost, careless pray wandering nearby. Powers that could only reign the darkness and fates that could only unfold now, they were rousing now, reaching to claim their territory with scrawny, bodiless hands and fingers.

That's what Gin believed. And Gin believed in so little things nowadays.

"Nocturnal" wasn't a big club. It was actually a narrow rectangle, snuggling closely in the core of another building, its front made of black, non-see-through glass and adorned with a couple of warning signs and posters. Atop of the door there was a curvy, neon version of its name, the elaborate letters glowing faintly whenever the thing was opened to invite whoever was bold enough to cross the threshold and find out what was on the other side. And what was on the other side, was a complete hoax of reality.

Gin had grown used to the difference between what was _in_ and what was _out_. Three years of working as barman at the place had turned him apathetic, callous, impartial even. He could not feel the plush, velvety embrace of the club, the way it so licentiously stripped every newcomer of their inhibitions, he could not taste the softness of the red and black colours along the walls and the carpet, couldn't be moved by the dull, comforting illumination leaking lazily from the opaque lamps so very comfortingly… all he saw was clients and colleagues and greed, and want, and lust. So much of it, actually, that detachment had turned into a necessity – one that kept him from being sick night after night of spending behind the counter.

When he entered the place that evening, Gin knew something had changed. He couldn't quite put his finger on it yet, the subtle waft of the novelty swirling bodiless around him like a thin stream of transparent smoke, but he let his eyes wander anyway, searching for the source. He wasn't sure if he was imagining things, if maybe the oscillating noises of the streets that he had left behind were playing tricks on him, pulling at his senses even in the plush-strangled silence of the club. Fact was, though, something didn't feel quite the way it usually did and Ichimaru was set on finding out what it was.

Striding quietly to the pith of the building, the man stopped before the wide, smooth bar counter he spent his nights behind and let his palm lay flat on it, re-acquainting himself with the bump-less surface through the touch. The solid construction of his work-spot was soothing, if sometimes quite restricting, and along the strange 'prison cell' air that it held, it also carried a sort of protection to his sanity. _Why?_ Because it drew a line. There he was, joggling liquids and pouring cocktails like a well-designed machine with no feelings and no physical reactions, and over there, across of him, was the isolated island of lewdness and depravity that he was forced to watch every day after sunset. Like an ugly, vicious nest, that circle before him buzzed and shifted, sweaty bodies, slick, naked skin and _eyes_, so many eyes, riveted on the sight… _Pathetic… _Ichimaru exhaled slowly through his nose, lips pursing into a tight line as his fingers across the bar-plot curled with a certain trace of cruelty. It was a gesture he had developed over the time, a way to vent out his despise towards this place and towards what was happening between its walls. They were a pretty decent striptease club, he knew that. No funny business when the girls were done for the night, no funny business during their work, and most certainly no funny business between him and them. Ichimaru and the dancers, they were all desperate people, misfortunate, all in need for a job that neither wanted to do if they could choose otherwise. Each of them craved a change, a _miracle_, a ticket out. And were willing to do pretty much whatever it took to get it.

Gin had done just that - _everything_. And if he didn't screw things up (which he was so great at doing) then maybe the next few month would be his last ones here.

_Wouldn't that be a dream come true?_

Right now the place was almost eerie empty, completely and utterly devoid of any human presence. There was no one on the stools behind the bar, no one in any of the curtain-covered "private" nooks and not a soul wandering around the podium with the poles. The only sign that maybe the club wasn't as vacant as it seemed to be, was the faint gleam, coming from underneath the door to the dressing rooms… _although_ (Gin grimaced at the realization) the man was pretty sure it was a bit early for either of the dancers to have arrived. Trying not to think much of it, Ichimaru made a move to check what was going on, but before he had had the chance, the door burst open and his tall, ever-so-'pleasant' boss appeared, smiling his fake, smarmy smile.

"Gin!" the man simpered, arms thrown back in an avuncular invitation as though he wanted a hug. The whole damn world knew that he didn't. "Just the man I needed!"

"Wha' fo', Jay?" the fox inquired flatly, his gaze shifting a little to the smaller figure that had trailed soundlessly behind his boss. He couldn't make out what the person looked like, other than the fact that they were extremely short, but the knowledge that there was someone unfamiliar in the room send a wave of uneasiness to the silver-haired one's back. _What he hell?_

"Ah!" his boss exclaimed as he caught on his employee's stare and moved swiftly to the side to reveal the person behind him. "That's Hitsugaya Toushiro. He'll be our cleaner boy from now on. Mopping floors, washing the glasses, you know… All the things you're always complaining about." Jay paused, turning to direct a smug smirk at the barman. "For a very decent salary."

Which, translated from Jay's language, meant miniscule payment for drudgery labor.

Gin felt his boss' hand land on his shoulder and he tensed, contemplating for one long moment whether it would be forgivable to swat the offending appendage away. He resented being touched by anyone, his employer more than anything, and having been forced to endure the revolting feeling for no apparent reason was pretty much like being coerced to eat your vegetables when you obviously don't want to. His muscles rippled under the other man's palm, contracting with strain and he found himself breathing more deeply than he usually would just to keep his slipping composure in check. Luckily, just before his quite obnoxious temper had got the best of him, the touch vanished and Jay's broad back turned to him, the taller man already taking off towards one of the side rooms.

"I'm putting you in charge of him, Gin, don't let him laze about." And as though to set a good example, the boss disappeared in his personal, sound-proof room, probably to have a nap or make a few pleasant phone calls to his friends, _dogs_, mother, whatever.

_Splendid_.

Ichimaru let out an exasperated sigh and leaned back with his elbows against the counter, gaze now directing to the boy before him as he let himself take in the other one's appearance fully and unreservedly this time.

"The hell?" he murmured lowly, his grin that had disappeared momentarily during his boss' presence, now returning full power as he absorbed the sight before him with a mix of surprise and genuine merriment, both of those emotions so very rare in their advents nowadays, that Gin had forgotten they even existed. Whatever it was that he had expected to see from and in the child who had obviously managed to bargain his way to one of the most abhorred positions imaginable, it wasn't _this_. In fact, it had been anything _but this_, the view that spread before him so absurd that for one long moment Ichimaru was deeply tempted to laugh out loud and point the poor kid the front door - because surely, a boy like that could not be serious about working at a striptease club. "Toushiro, right?"

"Hitsugaya." The boy corrected very seriously and Gin's fingers thrummed against some invisible surface as he tilted his head to the side with a hint of curiosity and chewed on the inside of his lower lip for a minute. The most striking features about the new employee were probably consisted of the fact that he looked incredibly young and incredibly thin, his low stature rather noticeable even as he stood uneasily with body stretched to its full length. His eyes, underneath a tuft of shocking white locks, were gazing right back at Ichimaru, emerald orbs searching with quite endearing vehemence for the color that was hidden so very stubbornly beneath the two slyly thinned slits. This Hitsugaya, Gin mulled staidly, looked a little too persistent, a little too eager, and _way_ too impatient, the mix of all those three things seeping from the kid's pores into the air around them along with that hidden sort of alacrity that that always accompanied the youngest of men. Toushiro was going to be quite an interesting colleague if he decided to stick around for longer than one night, and for Gin there was nothing wrong about that, especially if along with some entertainment he got a bit of help on his workplace. The only problem was…

…Those _clothes_!

"Wha're ya? Some rocker, punk, what? Gimme a hint, I dun get ta stumble upon people like ya in the atmosphere 'm currently livin' in." Ichimaru teased, examining with a tinge of amusement the armament of metal that clung to just about everything the boy was dressed in. A long silver chain hung from the loops of the kid's black jeans, reaching to his mid-thigh and dangling there freely in a way that the man just couldn't pinpoint as comfortable, the whole thing probably meant to match with the thick, hefty string of hoops that connected into a loose sort of bracelet around Toushiro's left wrist. He was wearing a pair of fingerless leather gloves with small iron studs on his hands and yet another (but thinner and slightly longer) chain around his neck, the accessories somehow managing to accent even more on the shorter male's extremely pale complexion. A classical leather jacket was resting peacefully in the curve of his elbow, leaving a stark white button-up shirt as the only obstacle between his body and Ichimaru's eyes, while his feet, from what Gin could tell, were shuffling along the floor in a pair of almost knee-high boots.

"I don't like labels." Hitsugaya stated dryly, but a bit of an embarrassment was clear in his voice as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And I certainly don't care if you like how I dress."

"Good. 'Cuz I dun." He didn't mind it, actually, but he most definitely wasn't going to tell the kid that. "How old are ya, pet?"

"It's_ Hitsugaya_." Toushiro bristled, mouth curving with a certain implication of childishness to the side. "And twenty-four."

_Oh, this is hilarious! _Ichimaru found himself biting back a chuckle as he rested more of his weight on the edge of the counter and crossed his legs at the ankles.

"Try again." He offered smoothly and the stony expression on the shorter male's face faltered a little, smudging around the edges into one of uncertainty.

"Twenty-two." Hitsugaya corrected himself, but the almost imperceptible quiver in his voice gave him away instantly.

"An' yer third try?"

"Twen-" Toushiro began, but his voice trailed off, eyes losing their striking fire to make place to a sparkle of resignation. "-tish."

"Now le's be completely precise. How old are ya?"

"Nineteen." Hitsugaya admitted lowly and Ichimaru hummed a short tune under his breath thoughtfully, contemplating the information that he had already guessed pretty easily.

"An' how much did ya tell Jay?" when Toushiro showed genuine reluctance in answering that question, the fox-face just waved his hand dismissively. "Ya kno' what? Dun care. 'm not one ta judge, so as long as ya do yer job, I dun mind."

The boy perked up at that statement, a bit of suspicion still coloring his features as he eyed the man before him with a small scowl.

"You don't?"

"No." Ichimaru confirmed before straightening up and shedding his jacket with one fluid movement. "Now come ova 'ere, 'm gonna show ya how things work."

* * *

><p>Toushiro was a hard-working boy, that much was clear. His schedule was even worse than Gin's, more working hours and much less money, but he wasn't complaining the way everybody else at 'Nocturnal' always felt the need to. He did what he had to do, no skipping and no lazing around, and he never rushed things, unlike what Ichimaru had been expecting from a teenage boy. He came to the bar an hour or so before everybody else, mostly cleaning up the floors with the old mop he had been provided with, and left when the rest of them did – early in the morning. During the time when the club was actually opened, he mostly wiped tables and washed glasses, ignoring the weird looks the clients often gave him upon spotting the out-of-place clothes he was still persistent on wearing. With his sleeves rolled back, chains daily changing their hanging positions and gloves covering his hands almost all the time (the only exception being when he was doing the dishes), Hitsugaya was like a black sheep, wandering around a flock of white ones. And most astoundingly, he didn't seem to care.<p>

During the first few days, Gin limited himself to merely giving his little subordinate instructions on how to do this and that. Sure, he didn't pride himself to be the embodiment of amiability, but something in the pit of his stomach urged him to be even more reserved when it came to Hitsugaya… He wasn't entirely certain what the reason for that was but he deemed it had something to do with the fact that Toushiro looked like something that had just been freshly plucked from a vacuumed package. His whole body seemed to be screaming 'unblemished' and 'pure', the two adjectives clashing too viciously, too _explicitly_ with the whole environment the boy was trying to fit in. It just wasn't _right_ for someone like that to be exposed to views as the ones that were so vividly manifested at 'Nocturnal' on a daily basis. Everybody could see it, everybody could fuckin' _feel_ how unnatural this situation was and that was probably a further reason why elderly men kept staring dumbly when they walked through the door and saw this fleck of innocence wandering about in the night world, picking the dirt that was left from everybody else surrounding him. It was a downright _desecration_. So much so, actually, that Ichimaru almost had the feeling that his eyes, conceived so well under those guileful lids, ached from just looking. _Surveying_ the way this child moved, humming a unfamiliar tune under his breath as he rubbed the mud footprints off the tiled wooden floor and wiped the spilled alcohol from the cracks.

Hitsugaya was like garnish light, permeating illicitly in a pitch-dark room, he was marring _everything_ with how perfect he was, and while this benignancy that he was radiating seemed to wash over the bar like a waft of cool breeze in a scalding summer day, it was also quite disturbing. Incidentally, Ichimaru didn't _want_ the white-haired teen to stay, he wanted him gone just as much, as he soon realized, he need his presence in order to stay sane. The bar was no place for children and the sooner the boy realized that, the better - that was what Gin was trying to tell himself as he did his best to act hostile towards Toushiro. If a little pushing around and lack of kindness from the authority was going to do the trick, the fox was willing to do just that. No one needed another martyr case, especially a 'twentish'-year old one, they already had enough.

Surprisingly, Toushiro didn't seem to mind the treatment, accepting every harsher behest with a shrug and an almost non-existent smirk, and something in the way he acted whenever Ichimaru snapped at him, gave the impression that the boy knew fairly well what the man was trying to do. Whenever Hitsugaya felt that his 'superior' needed assistant, he just quietly slipped by the taller male's side to provide some help, his nimble fingers working alongside with Ichimaru's large hands, ministration harmonized with the older male rather than getting in the way. Gin usually met those displays with silence and absolutely no hint of gratitude, choosing instead to voice some half-hearted teasing whenever the two of them were done with the work.

Yet as the days rolled on, night after busy night spent side by side with the shorter male, Ichimaru found himself getting increasingly more comfortable with the boy's presence and those unusual jade eyes, meeting his saucily, knowingly, unlike the way most people were always tempted to look away from the fox. One dry word a day turned to two, then to sentences, then to short chats and until Gin knew it, he was telling the petite boy how he wanted to open a bar one day – a real one, with no dancers and no horny, chubby man trying to sneak their hands where they didn't belong. He didn't tell the boy how he was planning to do that – something stopped him every time the words pressed against his tongue – but he wasn't uncomfortable describing the picture in his head to the teen, not at all. Toushiro, he noticed, _really _liked visual descriptions. When he told a story, he always got very deep into the details of how things had looked, smelled, felt, sometimes chattering about that even more passionately than about the gist of the tale itself. What surprised Gin was that for some reason all those long relations didn't sound tedious in the slightest bit. It could be the way Hitsugaya launched into his very peculiar sea of adjectives and metaphors, it could be the distant, dreamy expression that settled on his face when he did, Ichimaru didn't know.

All he knew was that when he listened to the things the boy had to say, he felt strangely at peace with himself, comfortably freed from the tacit anxieties that seemed to haunt him constantly and endlessly nowadays. He was no longer caged in a steamy, sex-reeking bar, with his hands busied with the next lemon slice he had to cut, he was wherever Toushiro wanted _them_ to be, and it felt good. Better than it should be, considering Gin was engaged and to be married in just a few months.

In contrast to what it might've looked like though, Hitsugaya was no stranger to teasing and irony. He had a way to have fun, this boy, springing sarcastic remarks about the audacity of some of the clients, the low quality of the music and more often then not about how ludicrous of a boss Jay really was. When he wasn't deep into something, he had the peculiar habit of jumping from topic to topic like a schizophrenic, his odd views on life (_Is there any actual proof, that I am, in fact going to grow old and die? I mean, really? Who can tell me right now and prove to me that I won't live forever?_) and psychological theories about the human mind (_Everything we do is out of pure egoism, you know? Even when you buy something for your lover, you do that because you feel the absolutely selfish _need_ to get them a present. When someone dies, you cry because you are sad for that fact that you won't be able to use that person anymore for you own reasons. Simple._) always entertaining Ichimaru beyond belief.

He didn't agree with half the shit Toushiro rambled about, but that wasn't important at all. What mattered was that even as the teen absently produced yet another story, yet another thought from the depths of his bottomless imagination, those were not the ear-splitting, exaggerated grumblings and pouts that the girls had the habit to pour on the barman. Hitsugaya was sensible, even when he was talking crazy, and the conviction with which he spoke was so deep, so strong, that if he truly wanted to, he could probably alter the outlooks of a king.

At times, Gin would slump tiredly at one of the stools during the more empty hours and just watch silently as his little companion finished off the last few glasses, his soft, strangely alluring voice matting the world around them like a giant, wet paintbrush. Ichimaru was growing addicted to the sound of it, and far more often than not his gaze would sweep brazenly along the exposed white forearms, the heavy, exhaustion-drooping lashes, the mildly etched jaw-line as he took in what he soon realized was his only true pleasure at the end of his day. Toushiro was a survivor, the fox fathomed with a certain amount of irony, a survivor who was doing what he could to keep existing and who wasn't wasting his breath to grouse, simply because he knew there were much more pleasant things to waste your breath on. Yet, despite the initial belief that everybody at the bar had shared upon meeting Hitsugaya for the first time, he was certainly not the type to endured whatever was dropped on his shoulder without a word of protest. _No. _Toushiro definitely had a tongue – a rather sharp one for that matter, especially when someone was trying to make fun of him – and everybody learned that mere days after the boy took up the job…

The first time that Toushiro actually showed that side of himself had been when one of the clients had, through his inebriated, scotch-induced haze, called him a fag who '_wants my dick shoved up that scrawny ass_'. The boy had then lifted his eyes from where he had been wiping a table clean and said that even if he was homosexual, which he definitely wasn't, having said dick shoved up his ass wouldn't be a very impressive experience, since, from what he gathered from the girls, the client didn't have _much_ to boast about.

That comment had actually shut the man up quite easily, effectively chasing him out of the bar for good.

Looking back at the event, Gin had to admit that had it not been for Aiko, maybe the story would've been forgotten even faster than the way the man had stormed out of the club. No one liked that client – not even the girls, who frequently benefited from his thick wallet on Saturday nights – but he was one of Aiko's regulars, and Aiko did _not_ lose regulars to 'stuck-up midgets'. She didn't really complain about the incident to Jay - probably because she knew well enough it would be a waste of her nerves to even try engaging him in such mind-troubling conversation – but took it upon herself to make the boy's life as hard as she could after that night.

She shoved her nose in everything he did, fishing out information about him that would put him at the tip of her fingers, and in the meantime, engaged herself in impressive verbal spars with the kid. The scenes the two of them were making were definitely something to behold, even if they never really reached to a result of any sort. They usually happened before Aiko's shift began, right after she had dressed up and put some make up on, and the only reason Ichimaru didn't interfere to shut the blond chick's mouth, was because Toushiro did such an good job at ridiculing her himself, half the time without her even realizing what he sure knew how to have an argument with someone – he always made it seem as though he wasn't paying the slightest attention to what the other person was saying, usually distractedly cleaning something while the stripper blurted badly thought-over mockery after badly thought-over mockery onto his head – and that habit of his just seemed to frustrate the girl further. So much so, actually, that after just two weeks of going through the same pointless scenario of trying to humiliate Hitsugaya by 'outsmarting' him, she just moved on to viciously seeking dirt on him once again.

Gin had to resist groaning out load every time he thought about that one. Of course, all of them had their unpleasant stories, their rather oppressing relations about how they had ended up working in the night club, scrambling for every coin and paper bill they could find, just to tuck it away safely in the depths of their clothes for a Future that would never come. Some of the girls had run off from abusive family, others from possessive boyfriends, a couple had even had affairs with married men of too great of importance and that had ended up ruining them for life. Ichimaru himself didn't have much to tell, it had just been lots and lots of bad luck for him. And an alcohol and gambling addicted father who had deceased not so long ago. No higher education, and no friends, in combination with lots of debts left after the parent's death – those were the factors that had got him here and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. Hitsugaya, he fathomed, had probably gone through a similar scenario.

He was wrong.

* * *

><p>"I love Mondays." Aiko announced dramatically as she slumped on one of the stools along with a few other girls, humming a little song under her breath. Before her Ichimaru lifted his gaze from where he was drying up a glass and glanced up at the clock above his head. It was barely 1.30am but like it usually happened at this time of the week, 'Nocturnal' was as empty as it could get. "Gin, sweetheart, do you think you could make me a Margarita?"<p>

"Sure, as long as ya pay fo' it." the man said airily, repeating the same line he always used on Aiko since he knew well enough that otherwise she'd pretend that she hadn't known that cocktails didn't come free. Letting a small pout form on her lips, she slowly turned her head to the side, her green, cat-like eyes falling on the small figure that had curled behind one of the columns, head between his knees and posture slack in a way that obviously hinted that the person was sleeping.

"Hey, kid! _Kid_!" she shouted and before her Ichimaru couldn't help the small frown that formed on his forehead. Placing the already dry glass to the side, he leaned his forearm against the counter and hissed right in the stripper's face.

"Fuckin' let 'im sleep, the hell ya want with 'im now?"

"You are encouraging sleeping on the workplace, now, Gin?" she spat back, undisturbed, heavy lashes trembling prettily as she withheld his gaze with surprising ease. There was a smile on her face that seemed a bit different that the usual, cold-hearted purse that her pink, glossy lips formed. Instead, her smirk was smug, _knowing_, and even if Aiko wasn't too bright when it came to most things, she made it up by being incredibly bitchy, and for once Ichimaru wasn't completely sure if he should try and put her in her place or just wait to see what she had up her sleeve.

"_Toushiro_!" she yelled, this time making the boy lift his gaze to glare at her from underneath drooping pale eyelids. "Ah, there you are, sleepy head, I need you to get one of those menus and tell me the price of a Margarita." With that she nodded towards the small table just a few feet away from the white-haired teen, on top of which a stack of said menus could be seen. Before the girl, Ichimaru let out a tiny growl, disbelief simultaneously twisting both his and Toushiro's features.

"Get your fuckin' price yourself." Hitsugaya snapped gruffly the same moment Gin told her he knew how the stupid cocktail cost anyway. Aiko, however, just lifted her hand up regally to accomplish silence, the smile on her face stretching further as he crossed one long, milky leg over the other.

"Calm down, Ichimaru, I'm just checking something." She said, eyes still glued knowingly on the boy that was now looking up at her with cold, electric hatred in the pit of his teal orbs. "I want to see if he can do it."

At this point Ichimaru was honestly on the brink of his patience, his grin completely gone from his face as he withdrew from the bar counter, lest she did something else and tipped him over the edge of his composure. Twisting his mouth with distaste, he was just about to go back to his work and let Toushiro handle the absurd situation, when he noticed that the boy wasn't really saying anything. Pausing with his hand outstretched to take yet another wet glass and wipe the excessive moisture off it, the man turned around and threw the smaller male an expectant look.

"What is it, smarty pants, nothing good to say this time?" Aiko cooed slyly, feline eyes widening just a bit a she continued staring at the teen on the floor. With a certain level of incredulousness, Ichimaru watched Hitsugaya's face adopt an unfamiliar, restless expression, palms sliding to his knees as he took in a couple of deep breaths.

"Can't you just not bother me with your wonderful persona at least for one day?" he inquired bitterly, but the sarcasm he had tried so hard to pour into his retort was weak, wilting away under the force of the apprehension that had suddenly landed on his chest. Behind the counter Gin stood still, brows furrowed in a bewildered scowl as he tried to fathom what was happening. He could see Toushiro's teal irises shifting a little back and forth between him and Aiko, and he could literally _feel_ the deep, corroding sort of uneasiness that had combined horrendously with something that painfully resembled shame, and the sight startled him far more than what he had expected.

"Ah." Aiko nodded, delight illuminating her face the way only somebody else's misery could and she leaned back in the stool, just barely keeping the thing from loosing its balance "I thought maybe I was wrong to assume it, but after watching you stare at a box label for five minutes and mouthing the letters, it just hit me…"

At this point Toushiro was pushing himself on his feet, a strange sort of shine glowing in his eyes, and he shook his head, arms wrapping around his middle as he watched the woman before him intently. Imploringly.

"Don't do this." He said quietly, barely uttering the words at all and the grin on Aiko's face just grew wider, triumph visible in her whole posture as she straightened her back and glanced at Ichimaru benevolently. For one very tempting moment the man felt the need to hit her, inflict some sort of damage to her body, but he knew he'd never do it. Instead, he was drawn once again to the desperation that had settled visibly on the boy's face, Hitsugaya's whole body now virtually shrinking as he tried again, mouth his _Don't. _to the woman that seemed to draw her greatest satisfaction from exactly these sort of displays. Licking her plump lips attractively, Aiko adopted a concocted sort of hesitant expression, before shrugging carelessly and announcing as loud as she could without actually shouting.

"He can't read."

Toushiro visibly flinched as the words were let out in the open and under the spiky noise that was the stripper' gloating chuckle, he screwed his eyes shut, a strange, chocking sound of his own escaping his lips as something crumbled almost palpably around him. A wall of defense, a mask maybe, a fortress that had kept him safe and sound away from the devastating jeers that the revelations of such presumably minor issues brought. Opening his eyes and letting his lips part as if he was about to say something, Hitsugaya halted, catching Gin's look, and his shoulders slumped. Pressing his mouth in a thin line as if he was trying to bear something physically painful, he shook his head yet again and ducked through the nearest door.

Which just so happened to be the back entrance.

* * *

><p>Toushiro was pressing his palm against his mouth so hard, he could hardly breathe as he exited the club from the back. Stumbling his way down the few steps, he barely had the strength to round the corner of the building before he was slumping against the brick wall, back pressed into the cold stone as he tried to get some sort of control over the breathless sobs that were clenching his lungs in painful spasms. Placing his other hand over the first one, he tried to strangle the sounds, eyes watering pathetically as the humiliation burned a veritable hell down his body. <em>God<em>, he was so _stupid_! Thinking that for once he could get away without people ending up thinking that he was a retard. He _wasn't_ retarded! _Fuck_, sometimes he wished he was, because maybe if that had been the case, he wouldn't have been able to understand how degrading, how _laughable_ it was to read with the speed of an eight-year old. Knowing that it wasn't his fault didn't make it more bearable, it just aggravated the acid feeling of helplessness that was always resting in the pit of his stomach.

He sank to his knees, shoulders shaking uncontrollably and tried to _think_, think about what he was going to do now. His mind had gone completely blank, problems, rather than their solutions swarming behind his eyes along with the image of Ichimaru's expression when Aiko had blurted that one single sentence. _Damn it…_

"Pet?" the word sounded so strange, like a whisper underwater, and maybe if it hadn't been for the hand that reached to touch his shoulder, Hitsugaya never would've noticed. Flinching away from the approaching fingers like they might, in some way, burn holes through his skin, the boy turned to look though bleary eyes at the man who had crouched curiously beside him. The question in the fox's voice, the hint of disbelief, it was all Toushiro really needed to know what Gin now thought about him… and the idea hurt more than he had imagined.

Swallowing a small tiny whimper, the boy tried to scramble away from the bartender some more, but Ichimaru's hands had wrapped around his wrists before he could even make a move to pull back, those long slender fingers tugging Toushiro's palms away from his mouth. There was no trace of the usual smile on Gin's face, no amusement or irony and through his veil of uncertainty, the boy felt miles away from this person.

"Fuck you, okay? I don't care what you think, it's not my _fault_!" Hitsugaya spat, not sure exactly who he was directing those insults at. "You think I wouldn't try doing something about it if I could? You think that if I didn't have a case of dyslexia this bad, I would work in a place like this, cleaning floors and enduring the mockery of a _fuckin_ stripper?. They-" he paused, a strangled sob escaping his lips as his features twisted painfully. His hands, above the thin wrists that Gin held so tightly, curled into weak fists and he trembled violently all over. "They _move_. The letters. They move around, changing places, and I can't- _can't_ do it. I'm not retarded, I just-, I try so hard, but I-..." he shook his head desperately, the need for understanding saturating like a thunder cloud around him and he wished, he wished so much that Ichimaru would just _say_ something.

Instead, he felt the man shift a little, the larger body adjusting itself against the wall in a similar position to Toushiro's and then a long spindly arm draped across the boy's thin shoulders.

"'s okay. Let it all out." Gin whispered comfortingly, pulling the other male against his chest as Hitsugaya struggled with the violent sobs that quaked his body. "Let it out."

"I feel so _p-pathetic_, you know…" Toushiro gasped, the flood of anguish suddenly too much to handle now that the dam had cracked. "It doesn't matter what else I can do, if you can't read… That's it. That's it for you." he swallowed with difficulty and closed his eyes for a moment, weariness seeping from every cell of his body as he did so "After finishing school I got into this university- To study for an actor. I got accepted and everything, and it was all okay at first. They said I had a great talent, that I could make it through and everything…" a tiny, dry laughter chocked its way out of his lungs as he slumped further against the man's chest. "And then the assignment started to come and I was always taking _forever_, for _everything_. I couldn't read and memorize the scripts in time, handed in papers with absolutely _horrible_ spelling, and even though the professors were supposed to be understanding, after awhile- "even the bitter smile dropped off Toushiro's face now as he shrugged forlornly "After awhile you could just see they didn't want to care anymore. They started giving me hell, telling me that I should just _do something about it_. Like I didn't try… Like I didn't spend hours every night, trying-…_Fuck!_ It doesn't matter. I dropped out. Couldn't take it anymore."

A moment of silence hung between them, the sudden viciousness that had flashed in the boy's last words still vibrating angrily in the air. Ichimaru's gaze lifted up as he leaned his head back against the brick wall, processing the information.

"Ya shouldn' have done tha'." Gin whispered finally, a hint of rueful reproach flickering in his voice, and beside him Toushiro just shrugged again, resignedly. He didn't think the lump in his throat could possibly grow any bigger even if the disappointment in the man's tone did hurt him just a little further.

"Doesn't matter anymore." He repeated softly, the few tears that he had shed now drying on his face. "I have more important things to worry about now. That part of my life is over."

Beside him Ichimaru let out a low chuckle, his hand raising from the boy's shoulder to play with a few strands of white hair.

"Ya really are a child, aren't ya?"

Toushiro's whole body stiffened at the comment and he drew in a sharp breath, a deep, overwhelming feeling freezing his insides as his next words rolled off his tongue before he could help himself.

"You think I'm really stupid, don't you?" it was so soft, so, _so_ quiet, that the rustle of a leaf could've swallowed the sound. The night was surprisingly silent, however, and Gin did hear, his brows arching with slight disbelief as he looked down at the boy beside him. Toushiro's face had scrunched up in a pained grimace again, one that showed without a doubt how hard he was trying to stifle down the new, painful wave of sobs that was threatening to spill from his chest. Exhaling slowly through his nose, Ichimaru pushed himself off the wall, surprised how eagerly Hitsugaya tried to pull away the moment he felt a change in their positions. _No you don't. _Grabbing a firm hold of the younger one's chin, the fox forced the pale face up, a hint of annoyance marring his own expression when the pair of jade orbs refused to meet his gaze.

"Look at me." Gin ordered quietly, yet with undeniable firmness, and when the boy reluctantly obeyed, the fox chose to just watch him thoughtfully for a moment. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he let his eyes open and the piercing red underneath shone brilliantly even in the dimmed street light. The gasp that tore from Toushiro's lips at the change didn't bother the man, and neither did the slender hand that lifted to wrap around the man's wrist where Ichimaru held the boy's chin. Instead, he leaned a little and enunciated very clearly, making sure that not a single word remained unheard for the teen. "I don't think you are stupid. I know you well enough to be absolutely positive that you are anything _but_. So never, _ever_, let anyone else tell you and make you believe otherwise. You hear me? You did a foolish, childish thing by dropping out, but _nothing_ is over. Okay? Don't give up on yourself." He paused before adding a little bit more quietly. "It doesn't suit you."

And that was that.

* * *

><p><strong>Act Two:<strong> Made of Water

**2.**

"Sooo, it's gonna be a boring night?" Hitsugaya asked, hoisting himself on one of the stools deftly and spinning in it so he was propelling back against the counter on his elbows. On the other side of the flat marble barrier, Ichimaru let out a small chuckle and mimicked the boy's posture - only in the opposite direction - forearms resting on the smooth surface before him as he leaned his face next to the teen's ear.

"Restless?"

"A little." Toushiro admitted, pulling a face. "At least when I'm working, I don't get to think about stuff."

"Wha' stuff?"

Hitsugaya twisted his head a little, catching Gin's gaze with the corner of his eye. The closeness was a bit too much, a bit too palpable to remain unnoticed, but neither of them made a move to pull away. These sorts of situations had been becoming increasingly more frequent, especially after that night at the back of the club. It would be stupid to make a big deal out of them _now_.

"Stuff." He repeated vaguely and with a sense of finality before turning back to the scene in the center of the bar. He took in a deep, calming breath and slackened further against the counter, a drolly hum buzzing between his lips in a sort of mockery to the wonted provocative music that blasted around the whole bar. Toushiro had the awkward habit of crooning something when he was thoughtful - the bartender had noticed that quite some time ago – it was a fact that had amused the man for quite awhile until Hitsugaya had told him that it all went back to the time when he had only been able to memorized things by learning a song. Dyslexia, as the teen had explained briefly and very, very reluctantly, could hinder different things to a different extent. In the boy's case, it had stricken his reading abilities pretty hard. So hard actually, that despite everything that Gin had said that night at the back of the club, despite _all_ the reassurances he had given to the kid, he wasn't sure... wasn't entirely certain if he could come up with a loophole for someone with issues this severe in that particular aspect. He couldn't possibly find a decent job for a person like that, no matter what other talents this person might have. Being able to read fast and efficiently was vital _everywhere_.

Hitsugaya shifted a little, the sliver of exposed skin on his collarbone widening just a bit, and instantly, Ichimaru's hands moved forward against the cold counter beneath him, itching to touch, craving to _feel_, as the memory of the white softness that was the boy's hair and the smoothness of the pale skin tingled on his tips of his fingers. Swiping his gaze across the smaller one's posture, the mindless curve of the slender neck and the overall sense of relaxation oozing from the teen, Gin found himself both unhealthily enticed by the view and growing once again progressively irritated with Toushiro's abundant amount of accessories and the layers of random clothes that he wore without any particular reason. True, today the boy had much less metal attached to him, but that didn't make the whole view less unfitting with the background of half-naked girls and the fact that Hitsugaya was actually cleaning _floors_.

Once again, Toushiro was wearing his favourite fingerless leather gloves, with the difference that today there were no chains around either of his wrists and no iron hanging from his black, slightly baggy trousers, either. He had a white button-up shirt on, one that had a couple of dark motives swirling around the lower rim and a black casual tie thrown very loosely around his neck. All that finished with a simple black vest with no buttons and no zipper that hung freely past his hips to the mid-thighs and presumably a pair of boots, even if Gin couldn't exactly see those from this angle.

"Your rich guy doesn't see too impressed." Toushiro stated and there certainly was a wicked smile in his voice, even if Ichimaru couldn't quite catch a glimpse of it. Redirecting his gaze to the center of the hall, Gin had to admit that the boy was right. Their 'special guest' didn't seem half into the show as Jay (who was hovering uneasily a few meters to the side) would have like him to be.

It was an 'exceptional' day today. Unlike most of the other Friday nights, 'Nocturnal' wasn't exactly… opened. The only people allowed to enter were the aforementioned 'rich guy' – a tall man over his 50s with a few thick grey wisps in his otherwise auburn hair – and his slightly younger blond friend. The first one was obviously some famous and pretty well-off person, because he had paid quite the sum to ensure confidentiality from Jay, eventually introducing himself as Mr. T to the rest of them. His wallet had been enough to close the front and back door, the windows and the eyes of everybody in the club for one whole night and truthfully, nobody minded in the slightest. Jay, the pathetic creep, had been more full of energy than Gin had ever seen the guy before - exulted beyond belief, while explaining to his employees how things were going to work out today. No one had protested to the sudden change of plans – _not really_ - after all, less sweaty, greedy hands to deal with was always a plus and if the man was pleased after his experience at the bar, then there was a good chance that more wealthy people were going to pick the place for their… night escapades.

All in all, those conversations had been going on an hour ago. _Now_ the men were here, the lights were dimmed and yeah, most of the bar crew now had nothing to do other than watch Aiko and a couple of more women go out of their ways to impress the millionaire… who, very unfortunately, just seemed to become more and more irritated by the performance.

Ichimaru's grin widened just a little.

He could already see Toushiro rubbing the failure in the blond stripper's nose next time she tried to bring up his dyslexia to the table.

"Gin?" the informal address immediately caught the man's attention and he looked back at the boy who was now spinning half way in the stool to face him, one hand finding its way to the back of his neck as he scratched the nape in the now quite familiar gesture of nervousness. The bartender couldn't see the teen's face very well as most of the illumination came from behind Toushiro's back, but a strange tingle in the pit of his stomach told him that he wasn't imagining the fine dust of pink that had spilled across the smaller one's pale cheekbones. "I was thinking-… Wondering, actually. If you would maybe- If you would like to sometime, ugh…" at this point Hitsugaya paused, chuckling awkwardly as he shot the other one a meaningful glance. The expression was so endearing, so innocent in its essence, that Gin suddenly felt queasy and unstable, like somebody was forcing him to swallow a pile of rocks. He could recognize the thrill this eventual invitation was already causing, and he hated himself for letting this affect him so strongly. Shaking his head frantically before the boy could continue, he lifted a frustrated hand to his face and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. He could literally _feel_ Toushiro shrinking before him at the reaction.

"Are you okay?" Hitsugaya inquired very softly, every bit of the gentle, nervous smile now gone from his face. Ichimaru took a deep breath, trying very hard not to grit his teeth in annoyance.

"'m engaged." The man enunciated firmly, the words feeling heavy and unpleasant against his tongue, much like the aftertaste of bile that always stuck to his mouth after he had been sick. He removed his hand from his face and met Toushiro's eyes, not surprised in the slightest to see them wide and shocked, a flicker of betrayal flashing in their depths.

"Wh- y-you are? You never said-" he breathed shakily and Gin just had to cut him off. _Had to_. He couldn't stand the sound of Hitsugaya's voice right now, he could even stand his present, he just wanted the boy _gone_.

"'s no big deal." Ichimaru cooed, surprising even himself by how easily he fit his mask of light irony slip back on. "Has ta be done."

"It _has_ to be done?" Hitsugaya repeated, genuinely disbelieving, and Gin had to admit that he was a little taken aback by the burning look of disgust that had twisted the teen's features. There was real anger now, cold and hot, and hard, and thick, clouding with dark fog the usually serene surface of the two jade pools. Frowning slightly as he realized how _not right_ it felt to know that such annoyance was directed at him, of all people, the fox decided to remain silent. He didn't really have anything to say - not this time he didn't. Toushiro was deservedly furious, probably deservedly disappointed, but that wasn't really the man's fault. Was it? "What the _fuck_?"

"'s how things are, pet." Ichimaru pulled back, hands resting against the inner edge of the plot as he tried to keep his tone light. "No gettin' outta 'ere otherwise."

That, apparently, was the wrong argument to point out.

Hitsugaya's eyes immediately narrowed, emerald flames flashing beneath the pale lids as he tried to comprehend, tried to _swallow_ the fact that those words had truly just left the bartender's mouth.

"I thought you were the one who told me not to give up on myself. I thought _you _said nothing was over yet? You can't shove that shit in other people's faces if you don't fucking believe it yourself! "Toushiro gritted out icily and the man tried not to growl. Fantastic. The boy just _had_ to go there.

"Wha' did ya expect?" Ichimaru asked glumly, hands darting across the empty lower part of the counter in search for something to engaged themselves in. He didn't want to have this conversation and he most definitely didn't want to look at Hitsugaya right now, the boy was _pushing_ him. And _so help him god_, Gin did _not _have much patience. "How do ya plan ta leave this place? Find a betta' life? Ya are so fuckin' _naïve _sometimes, this ain't no fairy tale an' things won' jus' magically turn out right if ya find yer price charming, don't ya get it?"

"Ah, that's right." Toushiro spat acidly, voice barely above a whisper as a tinge of understanding bubbled from his voice, mixed with way too much anger to be anywhere near bearable. "She's rich then, real rich, is that it?"

"Gotta do wha' I gotta do. If a few compliments and good looks promise to do the trick, why the fuck not?"

"Wow, Gin." The boy breathed bitterly, lips pursing together for a moment as he nodded to himself a few times like one might to persuade himself that something unfathomable was the way it was. His eyes lifted upwards, meeting Ichimaru's firmly and he added lowly, the accusation in the whisper so strong, so _deep_ it almost felt like a punch in the gut: "I didn't take you for someone who's willing to sell himself for a few bucks."

And that, Gin decided, was it.

Slamming his hand down flat against the counter, the man leaned over it, very closely to the teen's face. The purpose of the gesture was marginally different from the one from earlier on, but he couldn't give a fuck about it. Right now he felt like someone had just stepped repeatedly on his toes and the detail that that someone just so happened to be a mere kid only added up to the desire to give the boy a piece of his mind. Once and for all.

"Look, pet, this ain't no game, okay? 's real life. An' ya kno' wha's in real life? Winners and losers, tha's what. I'm a loser and ya, my dear, are most _definitely_ a loser, so we need one o' those blessed-by-god people from the otha' side ta pull us up. Ya might not be able ta find yerself one, but, fortunately, I did, an' 'm not planning ta let tha' chance slip jus' when it's in mah reach, all jus' fo'-"

"_Fine_, gods, okay, just _stop!_"

Ichimaru paused suddenly in his tirade, a foreign feeling of cold dread seeping into his system as he realized what he had just said. Before him Toushiro's eyes flashed with something he had never see in the boy before – thick, glass-like hatred, and hurt so strong, so _intense_, the man found himself pulling back, pulling away as far as he could from the teen. The boy was shaking a little – just a little – whether from misery or wrath, it was hard to tell – but the sight was incredibly hard to bear and the man had to take a couple of deep breaths in to quench the urge to take the things he had said back. He wanted to, he really did, with everything that he was he wished he could make things right, turn the other way around and take the road his _everything_ was telling him to. But he couldn't. And better settle things properly sooner rather than later. The two had somehow already managed to sink in way too deep as it was.

"For someone this unworthy, right?" Hitsugaya choked out then, finishing the man's speech for him. "For the perspective of being with such a '_most definite_ _loser'_?"

"Pet-" he began, but managed to stop himself before he had said anything that could make things worse. He could see the expectation still flickering underneath the many, many layers of defeat, the dying, fey crust of hope… but he couldn't go there. _No._

"Right." Toushiro whispered, more to himself than to anybody else. Gin gritted his teeth and let his hand drop on the counter between them. "Right… My bad. I was wrong about you."

Ichimaru forced himself to shrug nonchalantly - show the infamous indifference that he thought he had mastered so perfectly by now. It was probably quite a poor performance – one that made him cringe on the inside - but judging by the half-aware state in which the boy had suddenly found himself, Toushiro was just bound not to notice.

"Oh, no, please don't leave!" Jay's desperate cry cut through the club like the pained shriek of a dying baby animal and everybody's eyes were suddenly directed at their boss. Mr. T, looking quite disgruntled and dissatisfied, was standing on his feet, obviously preparing to leave. Gin's employer wouldn't have it that way. "There must be something that we can do to make you stay!"

Ichimaru had to admit, with all his meat-headed-ness, Jay had some idea about what was bad for this place and what wasn't. Even if he was obviously quite unaware how unattractive making a scene was going to look.

"I am a patient man, Mr. Jacobs." Mr T. stated with an even voice while Jay was frantically waving to someone to turn down the music. "But being here is like watching plastic mannequins from the other side of shop window."

"M-maybe Aiko wasn't to you liking, but some of the others-"

"I've seen all of your dancers." Mr. T cut him off sharply, gaze sliding across the bar irritably as he folded his coat over his forearm. "And let me tell you: they are trying so hard to stay indifferent to what they are doing, that I have the feeling tha-" the man paused, oblivious to the fact that Jay was still rambling nonsense, and stepped forward instead, gimlet eyes glued on the bar at the back. "What is this?"

Pausing abruptly mid-sentence, the boss quickly caught on what his client was staring at and his eyes widened.

"Who? Hitsugaya?" he choked out in disbelieve, eyes shifting between the auburn-haired man and the teen. "He cleans floors."

"Hitsugaya?" Mr. T repeated, catching the boy's confused gaze for a moment and smiling encouragingly at the smaller male. "Would you like to come closer, dear?"

"He ain't a dancer!" Ichimaru snapped from his place behind the bar, his gaze catching on the significant stiffening of Toushiro's muscles at the invitation. He quickly opened his mouth to continue, but Jay lifted his hand, abruptly cutting him off before gesturing to the white-haired lad to oblige.

* * *

><p>Sliding off the stool quietly, Hitsugaya tried not to display too much reluctance as he slowly made his way to his boss, Mr. T already sitting down in his chair as he surveyed the boy with interest. Toushiro felt like he was on some sort of display, not only from this stranger, but from the whole bar crew overall, and he wasn't enjoying the attention one bit.<p>

"It's okay, don't be shy." The client said, his tone soft and gentle as he offered his hand to the teen. There was warmth in his brown eyes, and surprising sincere tenderness, both of those emotions strong enough to pierce through Hitsugaya's hesitation even with the dozens of gazes now directed at the two of them. He was pretty sure had it been somebody else, the boy would've resisted pretty heavily, but there was something very mesmerizing about Mr. T.'s chocolate orbs, intellect maybe, wisdom… he wasn't sure. Fact was, before he knew what he was doing, Toushiro was swallowing his uneasiness and taking the man's hand, allowing to be pulled forward very, very gently.

"That's it…" Mr. T. mumbled softly, guiding the boy to stand before his chair. "This is completely different now, this truly _is_… beautiful."

Aiko's snort from somewhere far to their left was pretty loud, attracting almost everybody's attention. The client seemed completely disinterested by her reaction, though, choosing instead to slide a curious finger under Toushiro's chin and propel it up so he could take a closer look. The boy held his breath for a minute under the careful scrutiny, suddenly feeling completely exposed as the man let his eyes roamed all over his face before releasing an appreciative 'hmm'.

"Mr. Jacobs, may I ask you to dismiss the rest of the dancers, I have no interest in them," Mr. T. requested loudly, never once dropping his gaze off the teen before him. "Maybe the bartender, too."

"No." Hitsugaya said suddenly, surprising himself by how firm his voice sounded as he riveted his eyes on Gin coldly, almost challengingly, and added through clenched teeth. "He stays." _And he's going to fucking watch._

"Very well." Mr. T. agreed with a small smile, not even sparing the strippers a glance as Jay ushered them out. "How old are you, sweetheart?"

"Old enough." Toushiro replied. He wasn't entirely sure where all the boldness was coming from, even if the burning gaze of the silver-haired barman gave him some idea, but he added without a second to hesitate: "I'm no dancer, sir. I don't know what you're expecting from me."

"I know that you're not a dancer." Mr. T agreed benevolently, placing his right hand on top of the left which still held Toushiro's small palm. "You don't look like one. But what are you then?"

"A cleaner boy."

"Oh, that's not right!" the man protested, his voice like liquid velvet as he tapped Hitsugaya's knuckles with a few clicks of his tongue. "Humour an old man, here, my child, I'm not planning to harm you. At my age people learn to admire true beauty, and you, my dear, are truly beautiful." He smiled, and once again, Toushiro found himself believing those words against everything else he had set his mind on. Lowering his eyelids for a moment, the boy nodded his head through a shaky exhale and replied.

"An actor, I guess. Used to… um, study to become one."

"Ah, that's lovely then." Mr. T uttered softly. "You are perfect."

"I don't understand."

"You _do_ understand." The man objected with a small smile, staring right into Hitsugaya's eyes. "You know exactly what I need. Question is: can I persuade you to do it?"

"I can't dance."

"Yes, you can. Everybody can dance, and I'm sure you can make it even better if you really want to… You're an artist, are you not?" the way this man spoke, so very carefully, putting all the real decisions in Hitsugaya's hands, made the boy feel strangely peaceful. Pliable almost. It was a rather different kind of sensation, one that he had been missing since forever, and the fact let him faltering as he tried to formulate exactly what he could and couldn't do.

"I, um," Toushiro bit his lower lip and closed his eyes for a moment, refusing to have neither Jay's persistent, impatient expression, nor Gin's incinerating glare mess with his head right now. "I can't- I won't take off as much as they did." There was no point in setting up false hopes right now, because he definitely wasn't going to go as far as Aiko and the rest of the girls did. He wasn't ashamed of his body, far from it, but he wasn't comfortable displaying it to strangers, no matter how charming and understanding those strangers might be.

"That's fine." Mr. T immediately agreed, patting the small hand one last time before letting it drop. "I suppose you want some other type of music?"

Nodding a little, Toushiro turned to look at an annoyingly hopeful Jay:

"Play me something slow."

As his boss disappeared from sight, Toushiro briefly met Gin's gaze; he saw the slight, nearly unnoticeable shake of his head and almost smiled. Ichimaru didn't want him to do this. _Good. _Hitsugaya didn't want the man to be marrying for money as well, but he was a '_loser_', was he not? And as such, he had no saying in any important matter. The umbrage, the inclination about how useless the boy really was, had hurt _bad_, worse than he had imagined it would, coming from the bartender… and it hurt even deeper, because it matched the boy's worst and most arcane fears with startling precision… It wasn't _fair _that Toushiro could not say it back, that he couldn't spat something equally painful in return to the one man who he thought cared. This whole argument, empty as it had been in its gist, had just made him feel even more helpless, more-… _less_ than everybody else. A step below the world, miles away from normality.

Like it hadn't be horrible enough as it was.

Hitsugaya tried to keep himself from grimacing at the thought and made an effort to collect himself. The same way it was none of his business why Gin had got engaged, it was none of Gin's business what Toushiro decided to do and what he decided not to. Ichimaru could glare all he wanted now, thinking probably that he was _oh so right_ to mess with the boy's decisions, tell him good from bad and correct from wrong, but it _didn't fuckin work that way_. Since Hitsugaya was apparently incapable enough to do any decent job, than maybe it was time to get over his so-called pride and try things that nobody else would. Perhaps that would finally feel like a deserving occupation. Perhaps _then _he would really know he had earned the dirt people threw at him all the time…

Grabbing a chair from the side, the boy quickly hoisted it on the podium, climbing easily after it. He could tell that Mr. T. wouldn't mind if he took his time with what he was doing, he needed to click into the mood and he wasn't even sure he could that. _It's like a play, okay? Acting. _Acting… Yes, acting the right role. Playing the needed face and the best possible character, that was the key factor here… At least the man had been right when he had said that Toushiro knew what he had to do. He did know. Mr. T. needed to feel like he was truly wanted, he needed to feel special, as if the dancer was performing solely and _especially_ for him…

If he could just imagine that he wasn't doing it for a complete stranger, if he could just _pretend_ that it was someone else watching him this intently…

He glanced briefly at the bartender as he stood to his full height on the narrow podium.

Maybe he needn't pretend after all.

* * *

><p>Ichimaru was clenching his hands into fists so hard, his knuckles had turned chalky white. He wanted to go right there and pull that foolish kid off of that podium right this moment, and it was <em>killing<em> him to know he had no right to. If this was some sort of twisted revenge, if this was Toushiro's way to get back at him for what had just happened, it was working _pretty damn well_.

His eyes followed carefully as the boy walked idly down the narrow platform, his boots echoing gently around the club as he did so. The music was quite soft, soothing almost, a nearly lazy, sensual melody that was barely blossoming, barely developing at all with the time. Toushiro lifted his hands and twined his fingers through the short locks at the place where his hair bordered with the skin of his neck. He was looking upwards as he strode, staring up at something in the distance, through the roof and beyond, until his eyes drifted shut and he stopped, exhaling carefully through his nose. Then slowly, ever so slowly his hands moved downwards and trailed over the skin of his collarbone, exposed demurely where the first two buttons were left undone, before stopping at the third to linger there. Almost like through the veil of a dream, Hitsugaya's head fell forward and a few stray wisps landed messily around his forehead, ivory eyelids lifting idly to reveal blazing emerald the way it had never been shown before…

…Ichimaru's breathe hitched, a bone-wrecking shudder traveling down his spine as he saw the absolutely foreign look on the boy's face. It wasn't directed at him, _no_, and he wasn't sure if he was grateful or rather envious of that fact, because those innocent jade pools, usually so limpid, so _clear_, like a freshly shed teardrop, were now a dark, overwhelming colour, narrowed ever so slightly as they gazed right at the auburn-haired man. Toushiro's mouth twisted a little, forming a small inviting smirk and he stepped forward, popping one single button open. _It's all for you, just for you, _those eyes were saying, screaming, uttering, whispering, weeping, gasping, _everything_ all at once… Suddenly, Hitsugaya was no longer the barely literate cleaner boy who worked like a slave for another paper bill at a second-quality stripper club, he wasn't an uncertain, full of doubts teenager with no future, he was a _lover_, a dream come true, he was the perfection in its purest embodiment and _he could be anyone you wanted_. Any name. Any voice. Any desire. His lower lip, caught erotically between his teeth now, spoke of submission and devotion as his fingers moved down, down, _down_, exposing more, more, _more_… When his shirt finally flew unbuttoned, that _person_, because that could _not_… it couldn't be _Toushiro_… took a few steps back until his back hit one of the poles, and he lifted his glove-clad hand then, wrapping his fingers around the metal right above his head. Blinking almost painfully slowly, he let his smile grow a bit, another invitation, another voiceless surrender, intense like a smouldering coal. He turned his head to the side and slid down, arching his back sinfully as he did so and the material of the shirt fell completely open by his sides. Gin felt like he might forget how to breathe some time soon, because, _fuck it_, this boy was ungodly gorgeous. Under the disguise of being small and skinny, and boyish, and-and _scrawny_, he was, in fact, extremely well-toned. Each muscle was softly defined, each curved dipping just enough, but not _too_ much, eliminating every doubt that he might, in some way, be esthetically maimed because of his stature. A glimpse of something black caught the man's attention and he frowned, trying to make out what it was, but then Hitsugaya hoisted himself up and turned around, his back now facing the men behind him. Pulling at his tie with what appeared to be a hint of impatience, he slid it off his neck with one smooth movement and peaked over his shoulder at Mr. T. as if to seek confirmation that the man was still watching.

The poor man seemed to be clutching at his fucking chair, he wasn't going anywhere any time soon, _what the fuck was Toushiro looking at_?

Obviously satisfied, the boy went back to his work and pushed the shirt along with vest off his shoulder, letting them drop to the floor in a messy pile. His body went a little slack for a moment, nicely-shaped muscles rippling a bit under the skin of his back before he grasped the pole before him again, pressing his forehead against the thing for one single moment. Ichimaru wasn't sure if the pause was meant to be yet another tease or if it was some sort of way for the teen to take a brief break, to collect himself, but he didn't really have time to think about it as Hitsugaya moved down again, this time twisting his body backwards and forming a sharp, graceful arch that would've allowed him to look back at the people watching him had he not kept his eyes closed the whole time. The hint of black flashed again and for some reason Gin felt the insurmountable need to find what the hell that was, the desire just intensifying as Toushiro pulled himself away from the pole and walked to the chair he had left standing in the beginning of his stripping. With deliberate slowness, he lifted his foot on the innocent piece of furniture and let his fingers wander down the boot, pulling his conveniently baggy pants up enough to expose the whole shoe. Apparently, whatever it was that Ichimaru had seen, was on the boy's right side – the one that was now impossible to see – so he momentarily forgot about it, watching instead as Hitsugaya glanced at Mr. T., brows jolting up just a little before he was pulling the zipper of the boot down, pushing the sock underneath along with the help of his thumb. The usually so gravity-defying tuft of spikes seemed strangely limp today, as though intentionally left to hang that way, to drape around his face like an almost see-through curtain that he needed to push away from his eyes – a gesture that seemed stolen from a fuckin' wet dream.

"That's it… Exactly what I wanted." Mr. T. uttered breathlessly and Hitsugaya smiled brilliantly at him, shedding the other boot as well and walking to the edge of the podium – bare-footed, bare-chested and with only his trousers and gloves still on. Right across his ribcage, from the right side, written with elaborated, thick letters were tattooed three words:

**Made of Water**

"Help me down?" the boy purred, a tone, voice, _sound_ that Gin didn't recognize. With his lashes lowered, lips curved in undeniable suggestion and hands resting on the now bare hipbones, the teen was temptation in its purest, most disastrous from.

Ichimaru almost flinched when the man got on his feet and put his hands on the boy's waist, lifting him up shortly, before placing him on the ground. Within seconds, Toushiro was pushing the client back in the chair, straddling him and placing his arms around his neck for what was probably going to be a private lap-dance. For one split second the strange, foreign look was gone from the teen's face and he looked straight at the bartender, no smile covering up for the hurt that oozed beneath. Then he turned back towards the man before him and leaned down, whispering something in his ear. Mr. T. immediately nodded, gesturing something to Jay.

Five minutes later Ichimaru was ushered out of the room.

* * *

><p>"'can't believe ya did that." The fox hissed, watching from a distance the still half-naked, but now boot-clad Toushiro, sprawled in one of the couches in the 'private nooks', flipping through a thick-looking pile of dollars.<p>

"I didn't even take my trousers off." Hitsugaya replied coldly, not even looking at the man. "I bet you do when you fuck her, no?"

"Tha's irrelevant _goddamit_!"

Hitsugaya turned to look at the man, expression stony and just a tad bit annoyed as his brows shot up with something like confusion. For the second time that night, Ichimaru realized just how good of an actor the boy could really be.

"Why are you so angry?" the teen asked softly. "I thought I was a 'most definite loser'?"

Gritting his teeth for a moment, Ichimaru turned around and was about to walk away when he heard the boy's voice again, still as flat as ever.

"Mr. T. said he'll be coming again. Jay told me if I want to keep this job, I'm gonna have to dance, too. Whenever someone, you know, shows interest."

"Say no."

"I already said yes." Toushiro argued with a tiny chuckle. "You set a good example, Gin. Everything to get out, right?"

Ichimaru decided that he could steal a bottle of whiskey from the bar's stock before heading home.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Leave me now nicey reviews!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Okay, so I'm updating so soon just because today happens to be Gin's birthday, and since I refuse to acknowledge that he died (*stuffs fingers in her ears*)_ _happy b-day to Gin! :3 _**

_**The song is 'Buyou' by Keri Hilson just I felt like more of a party music.**_

**_And we'll be talking a lot about money in this chapter._**

* * *

><p>The Colour of Water<p>

**Act Three:** The Art of Deceit

**3.**

…_And as hard as I try sometimes it gets hard paying all these bills  
>The note on the car<br>So I don't need no broke, broke boy tryna holla  
>So baby shut it up till you show me some dollars…<em>

Mrs. Mori had been paralyzed from the waist down ever since a car accident six years ago, but Gin still remembered the time when she had been healthy and used to take him in whenever his father got too drunk. She lived just across the street in a small genial-looking house that was once very-well kept. Now it was pretty much falling apart, fraying around the edges like an old postcard might after being abandoned in a box for decades. No matter how often Ichimaru tried to spare from his time and go clean up, cook, whatever was needed, the place was just demolishing more and more with every time he went. The woman's health was becoming progressively worse, deterring her even in the small tasks that she could still accomplish and along with her, her little home was dying, too. The once meticulously arranged, charming backyard was now rank with lush weeds, unknown plants and nameless shrubs that had pushed away all the flowers she had once grown there and had turned the place into a sort of a jungle. More than once Gin had promised himself to try and clean up the little square behind the house, bring at least a particle of its erstwhile glory, but never had he truly done anything about it. Deep inside he knew it was pointless to even think about stuff like that. He had no time, no strength, no skills to revive a garden, no matter how good his intentions were or how desperately he wanted to pretend that he could turn back the clock and bring once more that small nook of peace that he had enjoyed playing in so much as a kid. Between his soon-to-be wife Amanda, his job at the club and his already quite time-consuming visits at Mrs. Mori's, he didn't have a minute of time to spare. And even if he did, he spent it grumbling about '_that stupid kid_', cursing _him_, himself and that obtrusive Mr. T. for ruining everything… as though it hadn't been ruined all along.

It had been three weeks or so since _that_ night and Gin was still trying to comprehend how _the fuck_ that boy managed to leave the club with a thick pile of money each morning, considering he wasn't even a professional dancer. For the first ten days Toushiro had still maintained his status as a cleaner boy, mopping floors, washing and drying glasses, etc… but somehow, whether because Mr.T. and his friend had been very talkative, or because Jay had actually attempted self-advertising, more and more people seemed to come to the club, already knowing that the composition of strippers was no longer limited to the fair gender only. As a result, smelling like bleach and chemicals had suddenly become unacceptable for someone like Hitsugaya and he was compelled to quit that part of his obligations, effectively driving Ichimaru to the brink of his thin patience. For obvious reasons, the teen's services weren't as popular as the girls' ones, so unlike Aiko and the rest of the dancers, Toushiro did not take shifts on the pole unless specifically requested (and even that happened quite rarely in comparison to the people wanting private lap dances), so instead he spent most of his evenings sitting in some corner of the club and waiting for some rich closed case to cave in. And cave they _did_, and much to Gin's dismay, there wasn't a single night when someone wouldn't walk up to the drowsy, bored-out-of-his-mind boy at the back of the club, and asked for some entertainment. Just one or two clients a day, sure, but _always _ones with thick wallets, and _always_ happy enough to come for more.

Ichimaru didn't get it. He honestly _didn't_ get it. Or at least, his brain didn't, because it made no sense for a supposed stripper, who refused to take his jeans off, to earn so much, and from such a small number of clients. From what he had seen of the boy's lap dance performances, Toushiro moved pretty much the same way all the others did… The only difference blossoming in precisely the places that had nothing to do with actual dancing. Unlike his colleagues, the boy usually sustained a very strong, intensely intimate eye-contact, that foreign, will-shattering look always in place as he smiled his mesmerizing little smile and wrapped his arms around the current customer's neck like he had been waiting to do whatever he was doing for ages. He allowed to be touched, allowed people to run their hands all over his legs, waist, sides – probably some weird way to compensate for his refusal to strip himself to just underwear – and most of all, he _talked_.

Ichimaru didn't like it. Not one bit. He had seen the whole composition all too many times by now: the sinful arch of that pale back, the demure bite on the lower lip, and then that mouth coming to rest just beside the client's ear as Toushiro whispered hotly secrets, promises, perhaps even surrealistic scenarios, and ran a light finger down the jaw-line of the now gaping man the way a lover might. The way _only_ a lover would. It was sickening sight, not only because it seemed to painfully _real_ that Hitsugaya wanted this - until much later reality crackled to reveal weary, devastated dullness in the usually bright teal orbs once the dance was over - but also because it was becoming harder and harder not to want to be in those guys' shoes. And Ichimaru hated that.

"Gin?" the familiar voice tore the man from his daily reverie and he looked up, hands still dipped to the elbows in the sink. Mr. Mori had just wheeled herself into the kitchen, a tiny warm smile twisting her lips as she looked at the man before her with undeniable gratitude in her old, glistering brown eyes. She had always been a tiny woman, even before that damned accident, with thick, if already graying, black hair and an air of motherly love that she sprinkled around her like a cloud of some dulcet perfume. She was the closest thing Gin had ever had to a true parent and even if he would never admit it, he cared for her deeply. "Are you okay, honey?"

"Sure, 's not tha' hard ta do the dishes, ne?" he offered silkily, wide grin in place as he pulled another clean plate out from underneath the faucet and arranged it on the small pile on his left. Mr. Mori scowled in return, attempting to fold her hands in front of her chest but ending up letting them drop in her lap instead. Gin tried not to look, not to think about it as he turned back to his work. Nowadays the tiniest movement seemed so, so hard for her no matter what she was saying, or how hard she was trying to keep her mood light…

"You haven't been yourself lately." She paused, obviously remembering something, and added quickly. "Everything with Amanda alright?"

"Amanda?" Ichimaru repeated, momentarily puzzled. Then realization sank in. _Oh_. "Nah, she's all excited, ya kno'? Keeps ramblin' bout the weddin', I dun think even if half the city was wiped out she'd notice at this point."

"When is it?"

"Wha' exactly?"

"The wedding." Mrs. Mori enunciated slowly, a hint of accusation flashing in her voice and the man snorted before twisting the handles of the sink to stop the flow of water.

"Dunno, in a couple of months?"

"Gin, it's _your_ wedding. How can you not know?" There it was. More accusation. Damn, Ichimaru really hated this, it made him feel like he was 11 again and it wasn't a pleasant experience in the slightest.

"Well, wha's the big deal? I'll there when it happens, wha' else matters?" he argued, slightly frustrated as he placed his palms on the edge of the sink and leaned against them. When he spoke again, it was just a low murmur, directed seemingly more to himself than anyone else. "'s jus' a fuckin' weddin', no big deal, dammit."

* * *

><p>Hitsugaya looked like he was going to fall asleep any minute now, despite the loud music that was blasting from the speakers all around the club. He was sitting in a wooden chair against the wall right beside the bar, his elbows propelled on his knees and chin resting in his hands as he stared emptily at the space before him. The night had been pretty peaceful for him so far, no work whatsoever, and with Gin's recent insistence to ignore every attempt for a conversation, he appeared to have rooted himself to his seat. It wasn't really that Ichimaru was downright refusing to talk or anything like that - rather all questions, all greetings and statements were answered with a mere nod or a single, noncommittal word. It wasn't important that they were both suffering from it – because they were <em>both<em> suffering from it, no matter what the barman had been trying to persuade himself during the long silent and oh, so very tedious nights – the point was to make it clear just how revolted the man was by Toushiro's choice. There wasn't an excuse in existence that could make this okay, not even _close_, and the more time the teen spent doing _nothing_ to change things, the worse Gin's agitation got. Not only because Hitsugaya was so saliently refusing to acknowledge the extents of his wrongdoing, but also because the boy was trying to act as thought nothing had happened. Dress as though he was the same person. Which he _couldn't_ possibly be, not anymore... Not if he didn't quit and look for a different job while he could still pull himself out of the sand pit he was slowly drowning in.

Today Toushiro was wearing a pair of light-blue, ripped jeans with a couple of slim chains hanging from the loops, a simple grey tank top, a loose black scarf, thrown casually around his neck and a pair of boots. The leather gloves were there, of course, matched with a thin leather jacket with sleeves reaching just over his elbows, and like every other night, upon seeing his younger colleague, Ichimaru had mentally groaned, not fully understanding, yet once again, _what the fuck was with the clothes_?

"I can feel you staring." Toushiro pointed out flatly, not even making the effort to look away from the nothingness that he was contemplating so intently through droopy eyes. Without the slightest intention to bother pretending he hadn't been doing just that, Ichimaru arched a vaguely amused brow, deciding at that moment that the silence had stretched for too long.

"Well, ain't people paying ya exactly fo' tha'? Ta stare?" the man stated, throwing a drying cloth over his shoulder as he leaned sideways on the inner side of the bar counter so he could openly look at the boy's profile. Toushiro snorted, still not sparing the bartender a glance as his eyelids moved in a slow, idle blink.

"You're not paying, are you?"

"Ah, maybe the sight ain't so special afta' all."

This actually caught the boy's attention and with a sigh, Hitsugaya dropped his arms between his knees and turned to look at the older male, face expressionless. Perhaps there was a trace of hurt showing underneath the pale skin, a layer of vulnerability that could be seen if one looked through the rifts of this flesh-engraved mask the boy was carrying... but truthfully, Gin didn't feel the need to go through any body language examinations right now. In his very stubborn mind, the white-haired teen was at fault, he had downright _sinned_, and until he dropped off from the humiliating occupation he had take up, there would be no forgiveness. No pity. It didn't matter how miserable Hitsugaya looked, how much older he seemed suddenly, _indifferent_, the crime had already been committed and Ichimaru would not let up until he got what he wanted…

…which just so happened to be Toushiro off the pole.

"What the hell is your problem?" Hitsugaya asked flatly, exhaustion seeping in each syllable he uttered and every breath that left his chest as he gazed right back at the man. "I don't see you nagging at any of the other strippers, but you've been at my throat, day and night, ever since I _sort of_ became one. What do you want from me? Tell me, so we can get this over with."

"Ya kno' wha' I want." Ichimaru snapped immediately, arms lifting to cross over his chest. "Ya havta quit this. Ya're barely an adult."

"I thought you didn't care."

"I dun."

"Lovely." Toushiro smiled, but the bitterness killed every bit of that smile long before it had reached his eyes. "Then I don't care that you don't care. And you can have a happy life with your girl. It's none of my business."

The resignation sounded odd, coming from Hitsugaya's mouth and Ichimaru found himself scowling restlessly as he watched the boy resume his previous position of gazing vacantly before him. The sour, nearly painful twist of his pale lips was the only indication that the conversation between the two of them had ever happened and for some unknown reason, the fact left the fox feeling strangely bothered. He didn't like this new Toushiro, with either of his dramatically contradictive faces, whether they projected lust, devotion, submission, desire or quite the opposite – withdrawal and indifference – he resented the change, because once Hitsugaya slipped into 'game mode', there truly wasn't a way to decipher what was going through that white-haired head. It was hypocrisy in its finest form, deceit, shaped so dexterously and so sublimely, that even the most accurate and observant people stopped recognizing it as such.

And started calling it art.

Gin exhaled softly through his nose, his hand that he had left resting against the counter now curling a little, dull nails tapping along the beat of the song that was now playing in an absent-minded fashion. As he watched the boy before him, stooped over and now completely immobile in his seat, a strange burning sensation traveled through his fingertips, his palms, the inside of arms, before splashing through his whole body like a tide of golden-red heat. The more he looked, the more he craved to touch the teen, and the stronger the knot of frustration tightened inside of him. He was many things, Ichimaru, many, many things, but being a cheater was not one of them and Toushiro's sudden appearance in his life – just as he was getting all the strings in all the right loops – felt like a punishment, delivered vindictively from a higher force for the things he was willing to do to get a better life.

He might not feel anything for Amanda other than some sort of meek amiability, but he wasn't as stupid as to go after somebody else at this point. A male, nonetheless.

He frowned, lingering over the thought for just a little longer.

A nineteen-year-old, dyslexic, nearly illiterate _boy_. If Fate could choose anyone worse for him, that'd actually be quite impressive.

"Hey, there, pretty face, you working tonight?"

Gin perked up as he noticed two men coming in Toushiro's direction. Both were quite young, probably no more than twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, and had just entered the club, a look of purpose etched on their faces as they came closer to the white-haired boy. Hitsugaya's bored expression was instantly washed away and in its place blossomed one of very soft cunningness, the change so quick and smooth that it felt almost surrealistic. Letting his eyes swipe over the strangers, the teen cocked his head to the side and proceeded to worry his bottom lip with his teeth thoughtfully.

"Depends who I'll be working for." Toushiro purred and Ichimaru tried really hard not to growl. It was things like _this_ that made people want to come back. Lines like _this_ one, gazes _this_ intense, smiles _this _tiny, _this_ ambiguous. With just a few short words Hitsugaya had set up his whole stage, making the two idiots think they were something special, something actually desirable.

Gin could already tell that they were going to be coming back.

"You going to entertain my friend Renji, here?" one of the men, who had short spiky orange hair, asked with that annoying, affable lightness that people with many friends knew how to produce so very deftly. "He has a birthday today, so you better make it good."

Hitsugaya leaned back indolently, hands slipping down to grip either side of his chair as he stretched his legs forward and redirected a slightly hurt look at the red-headed lad beside the one that had just spoken.

"Aw, you think I'm not gonna make it good?" the jade in the otherwise limpid pools darkened, the surface flashing oddly as the boy uttered, half an octave lower: "I'm going to make it _so_ good for _you_…"

The man, whose name was obviously Renji, looked mildly surprised by such suggestion but quickly recovered, smirking haughtily as he offered his hand to the smaller boy.

"There's no doubt in my mind that you will."

* * *

><p>"So how old are you getting, Renji?" Toushiro asked as he made his way to the empty end of the podium, eyes deliberately digging in the red-head's ones. Birthdays meant that people were probably going to be much more predisposed to spending money in comparison to any other day, and considering the fact that the teen was once again behind with his rent, this was definitely a golden chance to grasp right now. That, and he couldn't bring himself to feel any sort of remorse to rub his new (if not entirely desired) occupation in Gin's face after the conversation they had had earlier on.<p>

He couldn't get this guy, he really couldn't… What was it that Ichimaru truly wanted from him, because the things he said and the way he acted just didn't fit together the way Hitsugaya thought they should. Then again, what did the boy know anyway? _Right. Nothing… _He had been so sure, so _sure_ that what was going on between them went beyond a simple understanding between co-workers, yet the moment he had tried stepping out of his comfort zone, cross over the borderline of ambiguity, that whole theory had crumbled down like a cardboard tower. Engaged. Gin was fucking _engaged_. And not because he loved this woman – no, _that_ Toushiro would've actually accepted – but because he wanted, _needed_ a better life. It was such a simple, practical, and emotion-devoid motive that the boy just couldn't possibly ram it in his brain how one could go after such purpose before even reaching twenty-five. People grew old and dry, and pragmatic, and yep, _desperate_ – _**that**_ was the excuse you could offer if you wanted to give up and attach yourself to a person you didn't care about just to 'get away from it'. Even someone like Hitsugaya wouldn't go to such extremes to break free from the suffocating cubicle his dyslexia had already built around him, and that ought to mean something, no? So many times had he found himself unable to breathe, unable to look at himself from shame and frustration, and yet not once – not _once_ – had he even considered going to such magnitudes.

Resisting the sudden urge to let out a disappointed sigh, Toushiro just gripped more firmly the unfamiliar, slightly too hot for his taste hand that lied inside his own and threw his client a disarming smile.

…The mere fact that he was using the little abilities he had to earn money in a stripper club were enough to prove just how deeply Gin's decision had affected him. As much as it had hurt him and it still did, Hitsugaya knew that the man had been right when he had pointed out that the boy's situation was much worse than Ichimaru's. If a man like the bartender had to marry to achieve something in life, what was left for a failure like Toushiro? What could he _possibly_ wish for in a realm where no one would ever look at him if they knew how incapable of the simplest tasks he really was…

"Oh, no, don't go!" Toushiro exclaimed as he hoisted himself on the podium and looked pointedly at Renji who had just let go of him and had attempted to step back and look for a table. The boy smiled a tiny, yet quite dazzling smile and lifted his hand, curling his fingers one after the other in an undeniable invitation. The man looked utterly confused for a minute, not quite sure what the other one wanted, so Hitsugaya just rolled his eyes and grabbed the red-head's hand again, pulling them both on the platform – a venture that would've probably made Jay's jaw drop, if he hadn't been sleeping somewhere at the back of the club at this very moment.

"Tell me, Renji…" Toushiro drawled, once they were standing in front of each other, the boy's finger drawing a playful zigzag down the man's chest as he spoke. "Have you ever stripped a stripper?"

The red head looked completely, utterly lost for a moment, eyebrows shooting up to almost completely disappear in his headband... but then his friend's loud laughter from somewhere to the side made him snap back to reality and reached to rub the back of his head nervously. The gestured was almost endearing.

"Are you serious?" he asked in a tentative whisper while the carrot-top was dragging a chair towards the edge of the platform for, what Toushiro assumed, was a chance for a better view. Smiling in that half-innocent, half-voluptuous fashion that he had mastered so well, the boy drew his arms behind his back, wrists locking together childishly, and took a smooth step forward – a movement that purposefully put him in the other one's personal bubble. Renji visibly shuddered, but didn't even pretend to want to back away, the fact that he was probably drooling quite uncontrollably showing when his Adam apple jumped restlessly.

"Of course I'm serious." Hitsugaya purred, putting up an earnest, almost wounded face on as he lifted himself on his toes, bouncing a little in a way that deliberately put him in a kissing distance from the taller male. Stunts like this, he had quickly discovered, made the youngest of clients stutter in that embarrassingly cute manner that would later crack their wallets open more effectively than a gun to the temple.

"O-okay?" Renji agreed in a small voice and Toushiro tilted his head to the side, smiling sweetly. _Jackpot_.

The playful innocence peeled off Hitsugaya's face within a particle of a second and he lifted his hand, fingers crawling up the red-head's chest erotically before grasping the two freely hanging edges of the completely unfastened tie and pulling a little.

"Then let's get started…" he breathed a bit too intimately, his whisper grazing pretty much against the man's lips, and his eyes lingered a tiny bit longer than necessary on Renji's ones before he let go and slowly, slowly spun around. He was standing just before the birthday guy, a few flimsy inches the only space separating them, and the same way he felt the warmth that radiated from the other one's body, he was more than certain the taller male could sense Toushiro's own heat as well. If Hitsugaya's reluctance to be working this pathetic excuse of a job killed every bit of a mood that could've possibly been born from such proximity, he was rather sure the situation did quite the opposite to a hormones-driven bloke who had purposefully entered a stripper club...

...The strange ways life worked…

Toushiro jolted his shoulders upwards a little, purposefully causing the leather coat to slide down a few inches in a silent prompt for the client to get on with it, and smirked when the gesture caused a very distinctive uneasy movement behind him. Beside the podium, the carrot-top produced a loud, quite well-mastered whistle and completely slumped into his seat into a position comfortable enough to observe the show for as long as it lasted. The white-haired teen was almost thankful for the sound – it obliterated some of the tension that had naturally accumulated between _him_, and the obviously still uncertain man that was currently standing on the platform with him. He wasn't sure if this Renji person was holding back because of some moral issues (which should've been left behind upon entering the club) or if it was the fact that there were others watching that was giving him cold feet. Either way it was dumb. People weren't supposed to come to a stripper bar to experience stress, were they?

A few more moments passed and just as Hitsugaya was beginning to get impatient, two sets of tan fingers landed on his body, pushing the leather down his spindly arms. The jacket felt to the floor in a heap, but the unfamiliar hands remained on the crooks of Toushiro's elbows for a couple of seconds more, reveling, it seemed, in the harmoniously built limbs. Then the touch was moving again, digits dancing around the shorter one's neck and playing with the material of the scarf, occasionally combing through the short snowy strands with soft tenderness that actually made the younger of the two shiver. Unlike what Hitsugaya had expected, Renji wasn't rushing things the way keen barely-adults usually did. Instead, much like a child unwrapping the complicated package of a long-anticipated present, he was taking his time peeling layer by layer of would-be coloured paper in a manner so cautious, so gentle and delicate, that it almost resembled a foreplay. That, along with the knowledge that it wasn't gaunt, old hands running all over him, made Toushiro relax underneath the touch with unusual ease, a low purr, the vibrations of which he was sure the other one could pick on, escaping his lips.

The scarf slid off, and Hitsugaya felt vaguely grateful when instead of discarding it to the floor carelessly, the red-head flung it over to the carrot-top for preservation before moving on with what he was doing. Watching a bit distractedly as the taller man's hands slid down his sides and rested on the protruding hip-bones, Toushiro found himself releasing a soft yelp of surprise when he was suddenly pulled flush against the other man.

"That okay?" Renji asked right in the boy's ear and Hitsugaya chuckled – actually _chuckled_ – overwhelmed by the sudden urge to run his palm over his face as he realized he had completely lost his calculated composure for a moment. He could imagine the shocked, wide-eyed expression that had flashed on his face and the picture didn't aid his slightly quickened pulse in the slightest. For the first time, he didn't feel entirely revolted by what he was doing and he wasn't completely sure if he should be glad or frightened by the realization.

"Well, you're the birthday boy." Toushiro pointed out with an arch of his brow and his eyes drifted down to where the red-head was playing with the hem of his shirt. The peculiar desire to glance towards the bar and see what Gin was doing rose in his chest momentarily, but he didn't dare succumb to the temptation – he didn't need to see any more accusation etched on the fox's face and he most definitely wasn't willing to experience another episode of inner battle just because the very same guy who was marrying for money wasn't okay with Hitsugaya's choices. It didn't work that way.

Sinners didn't preach.

The boy lifted his hands to help his client slid his shirt off.

* * *

><p>"'m pretty sure <em>that<em> was not allowed."

"I don't see anyone other than you complaining." Toushiro stated as he threw his jacket on, his back facing the bartender resolutely. "I thought you didn't care."

"I dun." Came once again the mechanical retort and the boy resisted the urge to snort as he crouched to adjust his boots. "But tha' shit ya pulled up there was almost sex on the podium."

"Only with all his clothes on, me barely more than half-naked and no sexual interactions whatsoever. Gosh, you're right! However did I not see that?" Toushiro bit back sarcastically before standing up and turning around to cast the other man a meaningful look. "How was it _so_ different from any other time?"

"Dunno, pet… How 'bout he had his hands all ova' ya an' some otha' body part grindin' inta yer ass?" Ichimaru paused for a moment, arms lifting to fold over his chest before he was adding in a huskier, much more malevolent tone. "An' it looked like ya were enjoyin' it."

"I always look that way." The boy countered a bit too quickly and the man's grin widened just a bit.

"Think I've seen yer game face plenty o' times ta kno' when it ain't on."

"Are you jealous?" Hitsugaya challenged, eyes narrowing as he took a step forward. He knew he was pushing it, going where he had absolutely no right to be after finding out about Ichimaru's engagement, but _fuck _that. _Fuck_ it. This thing between them, whatever it was, was getting so way beyond absurd, that no matter what kind of an attitude they were both putting up to keep the situation in acceptable boundaries, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that it wasn't going to last for long. The volcanic eruption was imminent and unavoidable, the fire bubbling furiously underneath the thinnest of barriers as flames thrashed to come out in any form, any shape - whether it would be wrath, lies, hurt, spiteful words or something else embodying them… sooner or later things were going to go out of hand and then, _then_ it was going to get ugly. "C'mon, it's true, isn't it? Are you going to admit it to yourself, or do you not have the guts?"

"Jealous? Because o' a slut?" he inquired with a light, offensively incredulous tone and Toushiro almost flinched. Almost.

"Yes. A '_slut_', Ichimaru. Are you fuckin' jealous because of one of 'Nocturnal''s sluts, huh? Is that what all this is about?" The boy's eyes swiped up and down the other one's body and he huffed, before taking a another step closer to the taller male and looking him up in the eye. The smirk that twisted Hitsugaya's mouth was a cold, humourless one, and it froze his insides rather than warming them up, but he spoke in a low, purr-like tone anyway. "Did you wish you could be in that guy's shoes? _Well_, Gin? Do you keep your eyes glued on the show every night, both cursing and loving it, cuz you know well enough a little good for nothing fantasy is all you can ever hope for with your girlfriend's perfume choking into your lungs every breath you take?"

Ichimaru's grin didn't falter, although it turned steel somehow, unnatural and he crossed another few inches of space between them.

"Mah, mah, ya truly have mastered this pathetic little excuse o' a job, ne? Pure talent. I bet all this desire ta go outta yer way ta please clients comes from the heart, hm?"

"What are you going to do? Rat me out to that lazy ass Jay?"

"I might." Ichimaru replied airily and the boy tried not to laugh. Raising a little on his toes, Hitsugaya jabbed a not-too gentle finger in the other one's chest before grinding out dryly:

"That means you'll be paying my rent. And we both know that you can't afford it."

With that, Toushiro spun around on his heel and left the club.

**Act Four**: Golden Hands

**4.**

Hitsugaya nearly sputtered right in his boss' face, brows arching so high that he was sure they had reached his hairline. _What the-..? Is that guy serious? _His lips had parted slightly under the pressure of the news, but he didn't seem to notice, too caught up in Jay's repulsive, grinning face to produce any sounds other than the single, disbelieving 'eh?'. He wanted to say that this was all ridiculous, that it was most likely a prank of a sort and that his employer couldn't just trust some man that had called him on the phone with a promise for high payment, but for some reason he just couldn't make his mouth form the words. Beside his sitting – and now quite stiff - form, Gin appeared to look extremely caught up in wiping his counter, his arm moving rigidly in the same pattern again and again, suspiciously unaware of how improbable it was for that place to still have _any_ dirt in need of termination.

"Are you honestly expecting me to go to the house of some people that I don't even know?" the boy finally asked, his fingers clawing absently up and down his black leather pants as he looked at his employer expectantly. "The least possible negative outcome that comes to mind is that this could be a trick. The worst goes around group rape and homicide."

Beside him Ichimaru let out a low snort, apparently forgetting that he hadn't been supposed to be listening, and moved just half a step closer to the edge of the counter in his presumable cleaning spree. Hitsugaya scowled and shifted uncomfortably in his stool, not liking where this was going or the audience (that was pretending not to be an audience) in the slightest.

"Ah, but the guy says he knows you. Said that he'd been your client… yesterday? The other day? Monday?" Jay looked utterly bemused for a moment, face scrunching up with the effort to remember the particular detail before it became clear that the mission was hopeless. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he switched his weight to his other leg and gave Toushiro an encouraging smile that seemed faker than fake. "Anyway, apparently this man has been quite impressed by you, because he's willing to pay per hour, and if you just _think_ about it, you're gonna see how much of a great deal that is!"

"I'm not doing it!" Hitsugaya snapped, leaning forward a bit in his boss' direction. "It's dangerous, and stupid, and this person might be lying about being here altogether, did you not think about that?"

Jay's arms, which had been lifted up to his shoulder level just a moment ago to produce a series of elated gesticulations, now dropped forlornly and he made an astounding attempt to glare. In reality, he just seemed like a pathetically deflated balloon without any shape, or colour and Toushiro had to press his lips together to keep them from curving with distaste. This guy was disgusting.

"He claimed his name was Renji and he said you would know who he is." The employer finally stated in the gruffest manner he could muster and both Hitsugaya and Ichimaru froze. For a moment, the boy dared not move, the smallest hint of a blush dancing across his cheekbones as he noted with the corner of his eye the way the bartender lifted his face to rivet a searing gaze right in the smaller male's temple. There was expectation in that look, impatience, possibly quite a bit of frustration, too, and naturally the combination made the white-haired teen fidget restlessly in his seat. Oh, yes. He _definitely_ didn't like where this was going.

"I… I guess." Toushiro enunciated lamely, his features twisting in a hesitant grimace. "It makes sense for him to be throwing a birthday party now, bu-"

"An' he's gettin' a stripper fo' his celebration?" Ichimaru cut in icily, his hand still clutching a piece of cloth against the same spot on the counter he had been rubbing for the past fifteen minutes. Hitsugaya turned his face to his right and met the man's eyes, slightly surprised by the look of hostility, etched so saliently on the fox's face. Ouch. Another bicker? "Fuckin' fantastic. Pet, tell me ya're not seriously considerin' ta go. Think ya've made enough o' a fool outta yerself with this guy fo' a lifetime."

Toushiro's stomach jolted at the tone, disbelief splashing over his visage like a bucket of cold water and he blinked a couple of times, almost wishing the delicate movement would make the taller male take his words back or at least show _some_ regret. It was like they couldn't stand less than five meters away from each other and not launch into another verbal repartee, the point of all these arguments somehow always getting lost along the way. Whether it was just the pure need to interact in some way, _any_ (if violent) manner, or if Gin had suddenly taken it upon himself to make the teen's life even more miserable than it already was, the bartender was showing quite some passion in expressing his opinions in the most insulting fashion possible. It could be some degrading address, a vulgar allusion of a sort, or just a downright mockery, but in every case the mind fuck was mastered with perfection and never, _ever_ did it fail to summon the desired reaction… Like right now, Toushiro mused as he chewed on the inside of his bottom lip, _right now_ he was trying, _trying so hard_, to get under control the mix of chilling pallor and heat-striking fluster that were battling over the surface of his whole body.

"_Excuse_ me?" Hitsugaya finally asked, very, very reservedly, a dare throbbing underneath the forcedly polite tone in a way that would've made anyone think twice before replying. Indeed, for a moment Gin seemed to falter, apparently catching on how superfluously brusque of an attitude he was displaying, but the expression of doubt was gone in an instant, his jaw clenching instead and his hold around the cloth tightening until his knuckles turned white.

"At least try ta show some reason this once, ne? This idiot's basically booty calling ya."

"It's a fucking _party_, Gin! If it's not, I'll just leave. I'm not that incapable of making a decision, you know?" Hitsugaya had no idea why he was suddenly trying to defend the potential accepting of an offer he hadn't had the slightest inclination to sign up for before, but with the fox's surly, demanding behavior, he suddenly couldn't help himself.

"Does that mean you're going?" Jay asked hopefully and Ichimaru's head instantly snapped in the employer's direction.

"The hell he's goin' anywhere!"

Toushiro's fist landed on the bar counter so loudly that everybody in the still unopened club fell silent, turning to watch the scene with a mix of shock and timid interest.

"Get it through your thick head that you're_ not_ calling the shots, Ichimaru!" the boy yelled and beside him his boss tentatively stepped back. A couple of surprised whispers flew round the place like a dozen of rustling paper planes, but Hitsugaya didn't even notice them, his jade orbs now staring unblinkingly, spitefully at his colleague's slit ones. Behind the counter, the fox just gritted his teeth, failing to look disturbed by the outburst and slowly, deliebarely, he leaned closer to the smaller male.

"Toushiro, _don't_!"

"Fuck you." the boy hissed back, swatting the man's hand away defiantly when Gin tried to grasp his arm. "If you can't ask nicely, don't interfere with my decisions!"

"Pet-"

"Ask me. _Nicely_." Hitsugaya gritted out with the most earnestness he could pour into the three words. For a moment, Ichimaru pursed his lips, obviously fighting some tremendous inner battle and Toushiro almost dared to feel hopeful.. but in the end the barman just looked away with a low grow, frustration radiating from every fiber in his body like a sequence of large, vicious tides. _Right. That's right, you fucking coward. _The boy nodded his head - vague, bitter amusement twisting his lips into a smirk - and pulled away to slide off the stool. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

As he walked past his boss, Hitsugaya reached to snatch the piece of paper with the address from the man's hands, before turning towards the door and heading out. The place was silent around him - save for the sound of his combat boots stamping angrily against the floor and the soft clinging of the chains that hung around his neck, wrist and belt loops - so it came as no surprise that the hurrying of another pair of feet after him hit his eardrums full on. He was out of the club before the person could really catch up and only when he had found himself outside, did he look down at the address in his hands. The words were written with large, purposefully separated bold letters, and so he didn't have to undergo much torture to understand what was written down. The moment he did, however, he nearly snarled with frustration, the exact location of Renji's home making his temples pulse with ache.

"Shit." He hissed. That was _far_. Fuckin' far. How was he supposed to get there with busses not exactly being very regular at this time of the day?

The sound of the door being pulled open and then slammed shut echoed behind his back, but he didn't turn around to see. He already knew who it was, and unsurprisingly, he wasn't exactly thrilled by the idea of the man following him.

"Pet…" Ichimaru's voice trailed off and the boy almost smiled.

"You should really," Toushiro closed his eyes for a moment, face scrunching up in a weak grimace as he tried to summon some strength into his wavering voice. God, he was pathetic… "_Really_ stop calling me that."

He could feel the man approaching him hesitantly from behind, but that was about as far as it went. Ichimaru didn't touch him, didn't really show any signs of actual regret… he just pulled out the keys of his beat up truck out of his pocket and dangled them in the air to produce the desired noise.

"I can't let ya go alone."

* * *

><p>The ride was bumpy, slow and filled with uncomfortable silence, so when they finally arrived , Toushiro was more than eager to jump out of the truck and head towards the needed house. Which, the boy decided, as he doubled checked the address in his hand, was more closely to the definition of a palace that a living estate - what, with its humongous size and vast garden that looked better than the most pampered city park. There was music coming from the inside the building, and the side walk was bunched with cars, so a party definitely seemed reasonable.<p>

Hitsugaya swallowed, suddenly feeling very out of place. He hesitantly stepped on the porch, glancing furtively over his shoulder to see if Ichimaru was following, then pressed the doorbell.

Ten seconds later, the door burst open and Renji stood in the doorframe, a bright plastic cup in his hand and a merry, maybe a little inebriated, grin on his face.

"Toushiro!" the red-head exclaimed and the boy frowned, briefly trying to recall if he had ever introduced himself properly. _No. Of course not. _The again, Jay had never been good at keeping his mouth shut… "You made it!"

Before Hitsugaya had had the time to make any corrections about how he should be addressed, Renji's eyes redirected to the person standing behind the boy and his brows jolted upwards with surprise.

"I thought your boss said Toushiro was your only male stripper in your club." He admitted bluntly and when Hitsugaya looked back to examine the bartender's expression, he had to nearly stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from bursting into an uncontrollable guffaw. Ichimaru, with his arms folded in front of his chest and a grin, slightly wider and slightly stonier than usually, looked like he was mentally dismembering the birthday boy, piece by tiny piece, scream by sweet, blood-freezing scream.

"He's not-" Hitsugaya turned to Renji and forced his smile down the best way he could. "Not a stripper. He's here to babysit me, cuz he's paranoid."

"Hope that ain't a problem." Ichimaru deadpanned behind the smaller male and much to Toushiro's surprise, the red-head just shrugged, stepping back to give them the space to enter.

"The more, the merrier, right? There's too much booze anyway."

* * *

><p>If it was any consolation, at least Hitsugaya wasn't the <em>only<em> stripper invited to the party. There were half-naked girls all over the place, sashaying through the rooms, swaying their hips provocatively with the smallest movement and climbing onto guys' knees in exchange for a few paper bills put in whatever article of clothing they still had left. Some were dressed in rather impressive theme costumes, others just clad in a pair of bikini, and a few exotic beauties in peculiar underwear didn't even know how to speak the language properly: the diversity was _astounding_ – even Ichimaru had to agree to that as he unscrupulously shoved a few strippers off of himself. The party was definitely a killer one – loud music, crowds of people, and more alcohol then all the guest could possibly consume in one night – yet the fox didn't have the slightest desire to participate in any of it, even as Renji passed by him on a couple of occasions and urged him to relax. Gin had just brushed the red-head off each time, desisting himself from blurting anything offensive just because this guy was the host and could throw him out whenever he pleased. Ichimaru could _not_ get thrown out. He was here for a reason - a small, irritating, white-haired reason - and he was determined to keep his eyes glued to that reason all night long.

As Gin soon realized, Toushiro was the only _male_ dancer in the whole house and somehow, despite the fact that homosexuals were meant to be a minority, there was someone pulling the kid in their lap pretty much the moment he tried to get off somebody else's knees. Hitsugaya had become especially popular at the poker table that several men had put against the wall opposite of where the fox was currently sitting, the whole blatant, stale purpose behind the sudden interest resting in the fact that _someone_ (probably that orange-haired imbecile) had suddenly invented that the white-haired teen brought luck.

…So naturally, every dull, inebriated mind suddenly wanted a piece of Hitsugaya.

The poker table crisis didn't last for long. While the people who had played were still inexplicably persistent on keeping the white-haired teen around, the game itself was no longer so captivating, and with one large sweep from one of the guests' arm and a lot of cheering, everything – cards, chips, cups - went to the floor in a messy pile…

…And Toushiro went _on_ the table, in all those objects' place.

In his isolated little corner, Ichimaru was fighting hard this overwhelming, almost unbearable urge to get drunk senseless. He was glancing at the clock every five seconds in a nervous, painfully impatient manner and whenever someone dared to start a conversation with him, he shooed them off with a pleasant smile and a bunch of not so pleasant curses. Much like every other night at the club, he was now watching the tiny lithe figure of Toushiro move around with that mind-benumbing erotic slowness, his playful little smirk in place, and those lips moving smoothly, lightly, forming words, sentences, stories, that the man both resented, and craved to hear.

…And while Gin could not afford getting drunk because of the driving he was going to have to do after the party, Toushiro had no such inhibitions. He appeared to be extremely interested in various sorts of colourful cocktails that people kept stuffing in his hands, and even though his tipsy self would _still _not let anyone pull his tight leather pants off, he was inebriated enough to participate in some idiotic drinking game anyway. _A game_, in which he had to lay down on whatever flat surface there was and let people lick salt off his belly before draining a tequila shot. The scene nearly made the fox jump on his feet and drag the boy out of the house, but before he had had the chance, 'tha' prick' Renji (who the bartender was absolutely certain had a thing for Toushiro) decided to interfere and claimed Hitsugaya's full and undivided attention all to himself.

For the rest of the night the red-head didn't let go of the white-haired teen's waist, pulling him to the dance floor and wrapping his arms around the slim body with ease that was only excusable for a long-known lover and not for a client who barely knew a thing about the person in his embrace. This, Ichimaru realized, as he watched the scene with teeth gritted together and muscles tense with strain, was even _more_ unpleasant to watch than the idiotic things the poker players did. It was frustrating, and strangely painful to observe the way Hitsugaya smiled up at his dance partner free-heartedly and with one hand holding a plastic cup and an arm wrapped around the host's neck, kept rambling something through the endless slow dances he was being pulled in. Toushiro was no longer half-naked or bare-footed – he had his boots on and a carelessly unbuttoned shirt to cover his bare shoulders, and he seemed strangely comfortable as he laughed that uneven little laugh of his whenever Renji would commented on something, or frown playfully the minute there was something to disagree with. The whole scene was odd in itself, unusual, and it occurred to Gin after a few moments, that it was because it didn't _look_ like the red-head had hired the little ice prince for a bit of mindless entertainment. Rather, the whole situation resembled just a bizarre, deviant kind of date.

Ichimaru was _not_ okay with that.

Around 5am Gin couldn't feel a single muscle in his entire body. The party had tuned down and people were rolling around the floor unconscious, ponds of alcohol and other liquids of unknown origin decorating the corners and the pots round of the rooms. Ichimaru wasn't completely sure if he had dozed off at some point or just mentally shut down out of tedium, but when Toushiro appeared in front of him, shaking his shoulder gently, he realized he had no idea what had been happening for the past hour or so.

"You alive?" Hitsugaya whispered, obviously already sober as he tilted his head to the side and tried to draw a medical conclusion out of the bartender's state. "Hellooo?"

Gin stirred and slowly, slowly forced himself to sit up straight, his hands reaching to rub up to press against his eyes.

"Time to go?" he asked hopefully and the boy nodded. He was fully dressed, every article of clothing and every accessory in place and he looked exhausted, a thick roll of bank notes resting in his hand as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

It was still dark outside when they exited the house and for awhile Ichimaru regretted not grabbing a glass of coke or some other caffeine-based beverage to awake his body and nerves a little. Usually, he wouldn't feel this tired at this time of the day, but the static posture and the physiological exhaustion were taking their toll on him. He felt heavy and strangely limbless, dragging his body behind like one might do with a cart of bricks. A part of him considered calling a taxi rather than forcing himself to drive, but he got in the truck nonetheless, waiting patiently till his little colleague slid gracefully in the passenger's seat. A few questions, a handful of instructions and some reluctance from the engine's side later, and they were driving down the road to Hitsugaya's apartment building. As expected, the boy lived in one of the crappiest neighborhoods in the town, maybe even worse than the place that Gin was currently inhabiting, and as they neared the address, the fox noticed a number of suspicious looking people walking around, and that swiftly lead him to the conclusion that it wasn't exactly safe here either. The ride was silent like the first one and Ichimaru had to downright bite his tongue to keep himself from starting anything. A conversation would help him get his mind off how tired he was suddenly feeling, as well as the fact that he had the sudden, insistent urge to turn the truck around and just drive Toushiro back to his own place, but he was too stubborn to open his mouth and speak up.

"Right over there." Hitsugaya said softly, pointing at a peeling, unstable looking building at the end of the street. Ichimaru nodded mutely and after a minute or so more, stopped right in front of the place, cutting the engine off with the intention to take a five minute rest before heading for his own place. He considered a cigarette, but he had just recently managed to quit them and he didn't need any more useless expenses to have to deal with before the wedding was finally over with.

"Ya live 'ere?" Gin finally asked, his brain still feeling unpleasantly muddled as he glanced to his right at the view outside Toushiro's window. It looked even worse up-close.

"Yeah. That's me." The boy agreed with a rueful smile before turning to look at the bartender with a strange, slightly uncertain look on his face. His hands were twisting uneasily in his lap, fingers pulling at one another in a nearly childish, school-student kind of way, and Ichimaru felt his features soften at the sight. "Thanks for coming today."

The fox shrugged, not entirely sure what else to do, but the anxiety didn't drop off Hitsugaya's face. Instead, he bit his lower lip and looked away, a bit of embarrassment painting its vestiges along his cheekbones and the delicate, boyish curve of his lips.

"I think… I, um, I think you should have… half of it."

For a moment, Ichimaru just scowled, not understanding what the boy was talking about, but then his gaze moved downwards and he noticed that Toushiro was handing him some of the money he had got for the night. Pulling back from the smaller male, Gin shook his head, the firmness of the gesture resting most visibly in the tight line that his lips had pressed into.

"'s yers." He stated simply, but the icy undertone didn't remain unnoticed for the white-haired teen and the younger one couldn't suppress a cringe even if defeat still failed to make an appearance on his face. In his vast, yet not entirely comfortable seat, Hitsugaya shifted till he was turned sidewards with one leg tucked underneath him and tried to object.

"You spent just as much time as I did there." He tried a lop-sided smile, but the fox's grip on the steering wheel just tightened, all signs of a grin dropping off his face. "You should've been working at the club, but you came with me. You deserve-"

"I didn' do anythin'." Ichimaru turned to face the boy again, gaze digging into the teen's now hesitantly frowning face. "If I voluntarily came cuz ya're too stupid ta kno' wha's good fo' ya and wha' ain't, it doesn' mean I want a reward fo' it, get it?"

A short, heavy pause hung between them, the different layers of accusation in the man's voice having the time to settle full power on the younger one's slim shoulder and beneath the weight Hitsugaya visibly shrunk.

"Will you stop?" Toushiro uttered helplessly, his voice soft and strangely vulnerable as he looked at the driver with something in the depths of his jade pools that resembled a desperate, uncontrollable plea for understanding. "Will you just stop saying things like that?"

"Things like what?"

Hitsugaya squeezed his eyes shut and it took the man a couple of seconds to realize that the boy was futilely trying to collect the crumbling pieces of his composure before it was too late.

"Things," he began with difficulty, his voice cracking pitifully at the end. "Like the fact that I'm stupid. Don't you know… Don't you know what that does to me? Especially when _you_ say it, of all the people-" Toushiro bit his lower lip and just shook his head, unable to continue. In the core of the man's chest something cracked at the sight, a barrier that was meant to keep a healthy distance between the outer world and whatever that same barrier was desperately trying to protect… and yet he ignored the sensation anyway, pushing it back with ease before letting a nasty grin stretch across his face:

"Well, 's not like it's a lie, right?"

"Gods, Ichimaru, I just want to do something nice!" Toushiro managed, eyes snapping up to reveal a bit of anger beneath a layer of increasing moisture. "Why can't you just… Why do you have to _do_ this _all_ the time!"

"I jus' dun' want yer whore money, dun ya get it? Dun wanna have _anythin_' ta do with that."

"My '_whore_' money?" Hitsugaya nearly yelled, truthfully disbelieving now. "What about _your_ whore money? Those _you_ are currently earning by being the perfect, loving and understanding fiancé. At least-" chocking a little on the last word, the boy kicked the door of the truck open, already sliding off. "At least I don't _pretend_ that what I'm doing is right!"

And with that Toushiro stormed inside the apartment building, throwing the roll of bank rolls in the trash container on his way.

* * *

><p>'<em>Gin, baby, please pick up.'<em>

"_Gin, please! You can't just leave me a message that it's over and not expect me to call? We need to talk. Please, call me back."_

"_Honey, I don't get it. Everything was perfect, what-" _a sob. "_What did I do wrong?_"

Ichimaru parked his truck in its usual place around 6pm in the evening and slid off, a hand still pressing his cell phone to his ear as he went through all of Amanda's 8 voicemail messages. His head felt empty, his movements kindda sluggish and he was strangely unaware of what he was doing. He was functioning on autopilot, coming to work, because he knew he had to, locking his vehicle because that was important, listening to his voice messages because… because. Because he had finally done it and he still couldn't believe it was true.

He had spent the previous day sitting in his bed and toying with his phone for hours, and hours, scorching red-eyed gaze staring at the old, cracked display with intent, as thought the answer was going to type itself there. _It didn't_. And it wasn't like he needed it to anyway, because he already knew what he needed, _wanted_ done, he just wasn't sure if he would be able to. So he waited. And waited. And waited. For some different, alternative solution to enlighten him, to bring him the peace he had been craving for for days ever since the Renji's birthday party. He had craved his loophole with everything he had, and yet deep inside he knew that even if there _was_ a loophole, he would be satisfied by choosing to slink through it.

Ichimaru was done feeling like a tool. He was done turning _himself_ into a tool, he had choices, he just needed to get over himself and take them.

So that was exactly what he had proceeded to accomplish: he had picked the phone, pressed speed dial and said the few magic words: _We're over. The weddin's off. Have a great life. _

And just like that, Gin was suddenly free.

He had felt dried up on the inside once he had made the fateful call, blighted like a spring flower that had sprouted too quickly. With a single swipe of his wrist, he had sent it all to hell, and the worst part was… he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

_It's not too late. _a part of him kept insisting. _You can still fix it._ But he couldn't, he just _couldn't_. It felt almost like forcing your hand in the fire when you have just learned that you'll burn, and Ichimaru _had_ burned for too damn long not to pull out, not to want to finally heal. He wasn't sure _how_ he was going to do it yet, as even if deep inside he knew breaking the engagement had been something inevitable, he still needed to blame somebody for his failed life. For the future, that he had once more screwed up big time.

And the only name that came to mind, both as an embodiment of salvation and comfort and as an epitome of the person who had tricked him into his biggest mistake, was _Toushiro_. Toushiro Hitsugaya. One of 'Nocturnal''s fuckin' strippers.

Ichimaru pushed his key into the keyhole and exhaled with satisfaction at the soft click. He pushed the door of the club open and instinctively reached to turn on the light, not really expecting to see anything other than empty space once the lamps went off. That, however, had been a foolish assumption…

"SURPRISE!"

What. The. _Hell_. Frowning in genuine bemusement, the fox shook his head as though trying to chase the annoying image out of his head and opened his mouth to say something, but ended up with just his lips parted in shock as every single person who worked in the club jumped in the middle of the room, holding randomly sized boxes, bottles of alcohol, glasses and… well, more booze.

"Wha's goin' on?" he inquired uncertainly when a couple of girls threw themselves on his and pressed a wet kiss on each of his cheeks. "Wha's the occasion?"

"You have a birthday, stupid, did you forget?" Aiko's voice came from somewhere to his left before a couple of packages were thrust shamelessly in his hands. "We're _celebrating_! No working today."

Pulling out his beat up mobile out of his pocket, Ichimaru glanced at the screen and found out that, indeed, today was the day he had been born twenty-four (officially twenty-five now) years ago. He cursed under his breath at the revelation, half amused by the fact he had forgotten, half uneasy about it, and looked up just in time to see a familiar pair of slender arms wrap around his neck and pull him into a light hug.

"You're a fuckin' bastard." The boy whispered with a tinge of pain in his voice. "But I care anyway, so happy birthday, asshole. And try to have fun, it's your party."

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><p><strong><em>AN: Hope you liked it. Lemme know and be super nice cuz I updated REEEEAAAL(ly) soon. :3_**

**_P.S. Renji's b-day was on the 31st August so we're accidentally very realistic with the dates.  
><em>**


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: I won't be home from Tuesday next week till the we__ekend, so I thought it'd be good to update at least one story. :) This chapter isn't as long as the previous ones, but ALMOST. The song is called "Uninvited" by Alanis Morissette _**(sp?) _**from the movie "City Of Angels".  
><strong>_

_**P.S. This is for my friend Stila, who's such a terrible pain in the ass. *hugs*  
><strong>_

**ATTENTION: DUE TO THE RULES OF THE SITE, I HAVE REMOVED A SCENE from this chapter so as to not cause problem with its CONTENT and I have placed said scene in LIVEJOURNAL.  
><strong>

**_**Link to the story IN MY PROFILE PAGE or this:**  
><em>**

**_****queenofcitrus(then you write a dot and 'livejournal') (then a dot) (then 'com/1265')(then a dot)(then 'html')****_**

**_**Please, support the petition to allow writers to have stories containing lemons - you will find the petition by googling 'petition to stop the destruction of fanfiction'**_**

**_**or... www(then dot)change(then dot)(then org)(then this /petitions/fanfiction-net-stop-the-destruction-of-fanfiction-net)  
><strong>_**

**_**Till then... I'm saving my stories pretty much. :3**_**

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><p>The Colour of Water<p>

**Act Five**: Uninvited

**5.**

…_Must be strangely exciting  
>To watch the stoic squirm<br>Must be somewhat heartening  
>To watch shepherd need shepherd<br>But you you're not allowed  
>You're uninvited<br>An unfortunate slight_

_Like any uncharted territory_  
><em>I must seem greatly intriguing<em>  
><em>You speak of my love like<em>  
><em>You have experienced love like mine before<em>  
><em>But this is not allowed<em>  
><em>You're uninvited<em>  
><em>An unfortunate slight<em>

_I don't think you unworthy_  
><em>I need a moment to deliberate<em>

Ichimaru had to admit that it was quite strange to see the girls dancing _with _their clothes on rather than not: it was almost like seeing Charlie Chaplin or Hitler with no moustaches. There was probably a better comparison to pluck from the vast, abundantly humour-saturated embrace of the universe, but right now, a few shots of vodka after he had come 'to work', the bartender felt somewhat inebriated and thus sufficiently rusty in the brain sector. Ironically, he had spent the predominant part of the night around the bar, either pouring drinks for his colleagues, or sitting in a stool on the client's side and watching the dance floor – which by the way could be a very decent dance floor once one learned to ignore the pole podium, the absolutely stripper-club screaming decorations and the obscene photos on the walls – and seeing as Gin's slowly aggravating drunken state made him very poorly aware of any environment whatsoever, he was quickly taken away from the thought that this was in fact "Nocturnal".

Instead, he leaned backwards with his elbows propped against the counter, eyes falling on Toushiro, who was currently sitting on top of one of the tables at the other end of the room and dangling his feet lazily as though he was occupying a children's swing on a playground. The sight was quite endearing actually, Ichimaru mused as he tilted his head to the side and watched the boy chew on a cocktail straw, simultaneously managing to drain the glass he was holding in his pale little hand while he deftly destroyed the colourful piece of plastic tube between his teeth. Just..._ endearing_.

Hitsugaya looked awfully distracted today – a sight that Gin had always found rather suitable for the dyslexic teen's incredibly young, innocent-looking face - and despite the fact that his eyes were directed at a few of the girls who were jumping around at a familiar song and screaming the words, the boy was hardly filtering any of it through his head. He was wearing his outrageous leather pants again, a pair of boots and one of those thigh-length zip-less (and button-less) black vests that hung freely around his sides and made his frame appear even lankier and slimmer. His shirt was a soft grey hue, decorated with some surrealistic motives, and slightly longer than the boy's usual choice, somehow underlining the teen's thin bone structure even further.

The whole sight was strangely appetizing, alluring somehow, like a helpless pray put conveniently on exhibition before a starved, madly thrashing vulture. Hitsugaya didn't have the regal, voluptuous stance, lips, shapes and walk of Amanda, neither did he carry that particular air of invitation the girl had always so willingly displayed, but maybe _exactly_ because of that, _because_ of this unintentional appeal, the unwilling, tantalizing decoy of an ignorant child that he possessed, he embodied the most sinful desire for any man who had the misfortune to cast eyes on him. Ichimaru understood that better than anyone else, because as a person, permeated with vice and greed to the deepest parts of his heart, he, too, craved to mar this pure, if useless piece of immaculate soul. What he was going to next, how he was going to dispose of the boy once he was satisfied, _that_ was completely different matter to think through.

_Right?_

Gin watched somewhat guardedly as Toushiro finished the last inch on the bottom of his glass and gave it a bemoaning glance before putting it to the side. For a minute or so, he didn't proceed to make a drastic change in his posture, choosing instead to observe his colleagues and their _still_ quite inappropriately writhing forms in the center of the club with a hint of condescension in his smile, until something made him jump a little and he sat up. Letting his eyes slide downwards to the front pocket of the impossibly tight leather pants, the boy pulled out something that vaguely resembled a terribly beat up mobile, and leveled the opaquely glowing screen with the familiar concentration that always emerged on his face whenever he was trying to read something. Whatever it was that he saw made him tense up instantly and he scowled, his teeth flashing to give his bottom lip a tug as he kept his orbs fixed on the vibrating device for a moment before his features gradually softened in defeat.

With a deft leap, Toushiro descended the table and headed for the dressing rooms, rounding the dance floor from afar so as to not disturb those who were openly having fun there. Without giving himself the time to doubt what he was doing, Ichimaru slid off his own stool as well and mimicked the boy's path, pushing the door of the dressing rooms shut the moment he was inside. The pulse of the music was considerably less palpable here, the sounds not nearly as overwhelming, or mind-wrecking as the ones outside, and the relief that came with the quietness was quite unexpected. He looked up, slit eyes traveling through the long and narrow, corridor-like room, skipping between the dressing tables lined up on both sides, before landing on the one thing he had come for. Much to his surprise, Hitsugaya didn't seem to have noticed the man's appearance, too busy walking further away from the door (and hence the music), the mobile now pressed tightly to his ear. Even from his place, Gin could see a significant, if slightly worrisome change in the way the boy had stood a moment ago and the way he did now… His stance wasn't straight, instead it was strangely hunched over and seemingly in a process of shrinking, his left arm wrapped tightly across his middle as his right hand handled the device with a certain amount of unwillingness.

"No, no, I'm fine, I just, um- Break? Er, I have to check again when the college breaks are. You know me too well." Ichimaru could almost see the bitter, restrained smile that tore across the boy's face as he paused, his shoulders jolting up and down just a bit. "I don't know if I'll be able to come home for your birthday, Granny. I'm so, so sorry… I know. I know. I love you, too." There was another pause and this time Hitsugaya's whole body visibly shook, a mix between a sob and an, urgent, almost frustrated plea ripping from his chest. "Please, don't say that. Just don't… Because I'm not proud of myself. Granny… Granny, I can't talk right now. I'll… I'll tell you sometime. I promise. You take care, okay? Take care, I'll try to send you some money as soon as I can, alright? Nonsense, it's no trouble, my troubles come when you don't take care of yourself… Of course. Bye."

Clicking the mobile shut, Toushiro let his hand drop by his side and he tipped his head back, the sound of forcedly deep breaths barely managing to get through the low buzz of music from the core of the club. Taking a short moment to consider what he was about to do, Ichimaru failed to retreat, choosing instead to cross the room in a few well-measured strides and pause just behind the boy.

"Pet?"

The single word flew from his lips and hung hollowly between them for a long second before Hitsugaya finally reach to grasp it with unwillingness and incredulousness that was without a doubt soaked in every cell in his body. Turning around very slowly, the boy looked up, his eyes a little misty as a difficult smile coerced its way on his face.

"Hey." He murmured a little shakily, his hand with the mobile falling on ones of the dressing tables to the right. "Everything okay?"

"I was bout ta ask ya the same thing." Gin noted dully, tilting his head to the side. "Ya haven' told yer granny ya dropped outta college?"

Hitsugaya's eyes fluttered shut and he bit the side of his lower lip, the gesture, as unintentional as it was, making the blood in the man's system stir ticklishly.

"She doesn't need to worry more than she already does. She doesn't live around here, so I can pull the act off for a little longer, if I could spare the feelings of at least one person…" The boy whispered hoarsely barely gathering the strength to look at Ichimaru again. "Let's not talk about that."

"I thought maybe ya would need ta vent a lil… ya dun seem so well."

"No, no, I, uh…" Toushiro's other hand flew to his face and he pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose before adding. "It's my load to bear. And today is your birthday, I don't want to think about these things."

"No?"

"No." Hitsugaya let his arm fall down limply again and sighed, a much more sincere smile managing to emerge on his face when he leveled the taller male pointedly. "Had you _really_ forgotten you had a birthday today?"

"Yeah... I had some things on mah mind, I s'ppose. Gettin' older was not one of 'em."

"At least tell me you're having _some_ fun."

"Not tha' much. But, then again…" Gin's eyes weren't really fixed on the boy's ones as he lifted his hand and trailed the very tip of his finger up the side of Toushiro's bare arm, watching with astonishment as the white flesh prickled under the practically non-existing touch. "… I was hopin' ya could change that."

Ichimaru almost couldn't believe how violently the boy jerked away from the contact, staggering backwards into the empty space as he riveted wide, disbelieving eyes at the taller male.

"…What?"

Frowning slightly at the reaction, the man stepped forward again, exasperation rising in his throat like bitter gall when he saw the boy instantly retreat further, thin white brows knitted apprehensively as his gaze kept roving about the fox's face, searching for something. _Anything_. There was confusion etched in the outlines of his mouth, shaped in the stance of his shoulders, the lining of his frame... Hitsugaya couldn't understand what was happening, couldn't fathom the meaning of the bartender's actions or the reasons behind it, and that appeared to be enhancing his unwillingness as he tried to keep a considerable distance between himself and the man. Not really bothering to think things over, Ichimaru moved forward, smiling just a little bit wider when his prey's back hit the wall and Gin's hands landed on both sides of the small body, successfully trapping the boy.

"Gin. _No_." Toushiro whispered, the firmness in his voice wilting around the edges as he watched the other one lean in, pausing just inches away from the smaller one's now trembling lips. "We can't."

"Why not?" the fox whispered silkily, shifting a little so he could nuzzle just behind the boy's ear, his right hand slipping in to bury long, slender fingers in the mane of soft white hair. "Ain't it wha' ya've wanted all along, hm? Ta have me pound tha' lil ass o' yer till ya can't walk, can't stand, can't move a single muscle? Ain't it why ya flaunt those long legs about in clothes tha' can literally make a man's mind burn from the desire ta have ya?"

"No!" Hitsugaya snapped, a bit of anger pooling in that one word as he tried to move away, only to wince gingerly as the hold in his hair tightened in silent warning, a low, mockingly reprimanding tut coming from Ichimaru's direction. Watching the smaller male squirm uneasily in his grip, the man pressed his body more firmly against Toushiro's, free hand sliding to cup the boy's backside possessively as he traced the taut leather just over the teen's crack. "Gin, let me go. You don't mean any of this."

"Dun I, now?" the fox hissed, pulling back a little to peer at Toushiro's now genuinely anxious, if a little frightened face. A pair of hands shot between them, small palms pressing flat against the taller one's chest, but the push was frail, exhausted somehow and Gin merely chuckled at the pitiful resistance. He hadn't really been expecting _any_ to begin with, but this could turn out to be quite fun, almost like a game of proving who was truly in control, and the fox was willing to play along for a while, as long as he got what he wanted in the end. Pausing just enough to have the smaller one's confusion return, Ichimaru shoved his knee between the other one's legs, watching in satisfaction as the teen gasped and bent forward slightly, eyes squeezing shut as a low, surprised grunt tore between the pale lips right right after the initial whoosh of air. He could feel the younger male's growing heat even through the clothes, taste, _smell_ the barely restrained need to rub against the limb between his own, and Gin purred deeply in his throat, angling his leg so that he could easily press against Hitsugaya's hardening cock. Before him, Toushiro shuddered, making an attempt to somehow pull back, escape the feeling, but Ichimaru wasn't having it, lifting his knee higher up instead, so that the boy was literally standing on his tiptoes, pressed firmly, almost a little cruelly, between the wall and the bartender. "Ya think I dun mean this? O' this?" the hand that had been resting on Hitsugaya's ass moved a little, slipping a set of fingers underneath the brim of the pants and dipping to caress the top of the boy's crease. "I damn well mean all o' it.… Meant it eva since I laid eyes on ya the very first day... it was _there_, tha' godforsaken desire, an' no matter how hard I tried ta resist, it just grew stronger… I wanted ta push ya down and fuck ya hard from behind, screw ya raw till ya're screamin', but did I do tha'? No. I let ya torture me from afar, tauntin' me, ruinin' mah life bit by bit, until there was nothin' left-"

"Gin-" Toushiro whispered pitifully, imploringly, grimacing as the man pressed harder between his legs, keeping him on the thin, blade-like verge between pain and pleasure.

"-I want ta get rid of this itch, I want it outta mah system. I dun want any of yer smell, stickin' ta mah skin before bedtime, I dun wanna think bout ya when I fuck mah fiancée, _I need the control back._" The man quite literally gritted the last part out, tinges of frustration blemishing his tone as he breathed against the smaller one's lips wantonly, uncertainly somehow. "Ya've corrupted me, ya've made me do things I neva would've done before, all fo' the purpose of yer own entertainment. I hope ya're happy now… Ya're gettin' what ya wanted."

"…You know that's not true." the boy uttered, his lips pressing tightly together for a moment as hurt and defeat clawed at his throat, hindering his speech. "Getting a fuck was never what I was after… You know that, you _know_ it you damn bastard, you just can't get it through your thick head, so you keep pushing."

"Pushin'? How am _I _the one pushin', ya and yer constant nagging on me bout marrying fo' somethin' other than yer precious love, _you_ dare to say that I'm the one who's _pushin_'?" Ichimaru hissed, punching the wall beside Toushiro's head and making the boy jump. "Do ya have _any_ idea wha' ya made me do?"

"Nothing." Hitsugaya replied quietly, swallowing with difficulty as he glared up at the taller male. "Everything you've done, you've done it for yourself, _because_ of yourself, I never had anything to do with it…"

Slowly, deliberately, Ichimaru released the strands of soft hair from where he had fisted them between his fingers and moved his palm to the back of the boy's neck instead, caressing the smooth skin there in an almost apologetic manner as he withdrew his knee from between the teen's legs and leaned in to press his forehead in the crook of the younger male's neck. He felt the smaller body slump a little in both relief and disappointment, but didn't find it in himself to summon the usual amount of mockery or the wide, mischievous smirk to the surface. He didn't want to see Toushiro's face when he said what we was planning to, he could bear neither the triumph, nor the pity, as he had no idea how to deal with any of those - he'd never had to before... Ichimaru had no idea how to cope without his anger, without the bitterness, the greed, or the ultimate, overwhelming sense of ambition and striving… and so he was clutching to the one thing he could right now: he was trying to transfer the remnants of his rage and hatred towards the one person who could never respond adequately to either. Deep inside, Gin realized that he was fighting his own being, his own mind and body with everything he was, and yet he made no attempt to change his strategy, sticking stubbornly to his old, prosaic understandings of the world, for if he didn't, he feared he'd lose himself. He'd have nothing to stand on, nothing to support him, and he wasn't sure… he wasn't certain that Hitsugaya would be there to guide him if he lost his sight, his senses, if he completely slipped away. Even if the boy did end up being there to usher him down the foreign, sinuous path, would Ichimaru trust him to? Was the fox even capable of such a feeling?

"I broke off the engagement." He murmured, not really bothering to hide the accusation that dripped from his voice. "I'm done. I'm done fo' good, kid... All because of ya."

Ichimaru felt the body beneath his own shudder violently at those words, hands dropping from between the two of them as Toushiro went slack, head leaning back against the wall as he turned irresponsive, limp in the man's arms. Gin wasn't sure what to make of it, whether it was a positive sign, whether it was a negative, questioning, uncertain, _mixed_ sign… So he remained still, intoxicated in the painful resemblance of a closeness that he was purposefully fucking up. He was filled with anger, frustration, longing, all the way to the brim, and since he couldn't get rid of the last one in that list, he was just trying to let the rest spill out, for whatever price.

"Does it make you feel better," Toushiro questioned quietly, his pulse going a little irregular underneath the man's skin despite the distanced, uncustomary manner in which the words were spoken. "to blame me for everything that you can think of?"

Gin sensed something inside him stir at that statement, _shriek_ in agonizing perdition as an animal might when wounded, but he didn't dare look closely at what was happening inside of him. Instead, driven by whatever reason, he felt the now quite familiar tug for the boy's body, the need to consume the sweetness that this person was, scratch, take, push, _claim_ with everything that he was… Pulling back just enough, the man never really looked up at the pair of jade eyes, choosing instead to contemplate in astonishment the perfectly shaped lips just inches away from his own. Hitsugaya remained still before him, flaccid, but Ichimaru refused to take that into account as he moved to capture the other one's mouth with his own, breath hitching with shock when the smaller male looked away, teal orbs cast downwards, unwilling.

"Just this once, pet…" the man whispered, a bit of desperation crawling its way into his chest as he wrapped an arm around the teen's thin waist. "I want ya so bad, I can barely see straight anymo', I-"

"I'm sorry then. For causing so much trouble." Toushiro replied dully, reaching to give Ichimaru's chest a firm push instead. "But I don't want it."

"Ya dun want it?" the man repeated incredulously and when Hitsugaya made a step towards the door, Gin's hand shot up to grasp him above the elbow, halting all movement. "Ya _don't_ want it?"

"No." the boy agreed, casting the man's fingers an impartial look. "I don't want you. Not like this."

Almost as if he had been yanked by a string in a completely different direction, the man felt his lips form the familiar, sneering grin as he met the boy's icy gaze with his own one.

"Oh. Right. 'm sorry, how much do ya take fo' a private dance, hm?"

"I'm _choosing_ not to do this, Gin." Toushiro stated, frowning just a little as he wrenched his arm free. "And that's something you would never understand."

Then Ichimaru watched the boy walk straight out of the door.

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><p><strong>Act 6:<strong> Invited

**6.**

Ichimaru walked in the club the next day a little later than usual, not really wanting to run into Toushiro in case the boy had come to work early (the way Hitsugaya normally did) and there weren't other people around. Gin wasn't sure what had made him act the way he had towards the younger male the previous night, but for some reason that he couldn't quite pinpoint just yet, he couldn't get rid of the memory of the incident, and neither could he chase away the deep, burning sensation in the pit of his stomach that had been accompanying him all day long. He wanted to blame it all on the alcohol – from the advances that he had suddenly decided to make on the obviously upset teen, to the things he had said and finally to the dull, empty throb that had now settled inside his body. He wanted to go and claim that he had been inebriated, hardly capable of comprehending his surroundings, and yet he couldn't possibly do that – he had hardly drunk enough to cross the borderline of being tipsy and he knew it…

Gin fought down a grimaced.

…Hitsugaya knew that, too.

Making his way across the club to his bar counter, Ichimaru was slightly surprised that he didn't spot the familiar white mane anywhere. He arrived at his working spot undisturbed, shed his coat and threw it to the side, mechanically reaching to wash his hands as he tried as furtively as possible to scan the area around himself, half-hopeful that he was going to see Toushiro, half-wishing he didn't. There were hardly more than two men in the place, both of them watching with hungry, avid eyes as several girls snaked their skinny frames around the poles, but apart from them and the few bored-looking dancers that wandered aimlessly before their dressing room, there was no one. Gin snorted under his breath at the fact, shaking his head as he stepped away from the tap and was about to crouch down and grab a beer from the small fridge beside his legs, when he felt something wrap around his wrist. Jerking around abruptly, he caught only a brief glimpse of Hitsugaya's eyes before the boy looked away, nodding unclearly to his right.

"Pet-"

"Don't talk." Toushiro replied flatly and turned around, proceeding to drag the taller male along the back of the club. Not really putting up a resistance, Ichimaru just watched with a hint of apprehension as the smaller male lead him behind the familiar line of columns before swirling behind one of them and through a door that the man didn't immediately recognize.

"Wait… Ain't that Jay's office?" Gin noticed as the boy pushed said door close behind them, finally letting go of the barman's wrist to turn the key in the keyhole with an abrupt and almost careless click. The fox perked up at the sound, suspicion gradually seeping into his system and he stepped back, looking around the ridiculously untidy and boyish looking office like one might if they found themselves in a cave. "Pet? Why are we 'ere?"

"He's going to be late." Toushiro stated airily, his back still facing the man as he let his palm rest flat against the smooth surface of the door before adding through something like a sigh. "We have time."

It was then that Ichimaru finally took in the boy's appearance – from the lack of the usual leather gloves, to the simplicity, the almost austere choice that the younger male had made for his outfit today. There were no combat boots, no chains, accessories, nothing… Instead, Hitsugaya was wearing a simple plaid shirt with a predominant rusty colour and a pair of light faded skinny jeans, on top of some white, slightly shabby sneakers.

"Sit, please." Toushiro requested quietly, still facing away from the man, and yet his words, as firmly as they had been voiced, had no effect on Gin who just remained completely still, gaze riveted in the back of the smaller one's neck in a silent demand for an explanation. Seeing as there was no movement behind him, Hitsugaya let his shoulders sag a little under the burden of something seemingly insurmountable, before finally turning around and looking up to catch the bartender's slit eyes. The moment was long, intense in its essence, but it lead to nothing… All Gin saw before him was a strangely closed up variation of the teen he had grown to know, a face that held no recognizable features to him, or to anyone else in this club for that matter. The boy's mouth was curved awkwardly, apprehensively to an extent and his thin white brows were knitted together, forming something undefined, expressing an emotion that in itself seemed torn between the deep, gnawing sense of vulnerability, and another, stronger feeling that Ichimaru didn't quite have the time to grasp… Next thing he knew, the man had a pair of soft lips latched to his own as Toushiro clutched the front of his shirt in his fists and pushed forward forcefully, step by step leading the other male until the fox's claves hit something and he lost balance, falling in a conveniently positioned chair right beside Jay's desk.

"Pet, wha-"

"Shh. No talking." The boy repeated in a soft, barely audible susurration, crawling in the man's lap before gathering Gin's jaw in his small hands and reattaching their mouths. This time there was no trick in the kiss, no ulterior aim concentrated in the delicate pressure of Hitsugaya's lips or the aerial, inviting touch of the teen's fingers upon Ichimaru's face. Instead, Toushiro's movements were tender and tantalizing, slowly deepening by the second as they bestowed just as much bliss as they did the opposite: bereaving one of his sanity like a sin always calls out, so dulcetly, for a lost soul. Feeling himself slip under the taboo sorcery of the person before him, Ichimaru found himself taking over, trapping the boy's bottom lip between his own as he reached to grip the pair of slim hips and pull their bodies closer. Hitsugaya was opening up before him easily, _willingly_ this time, like a flower that stretched its lush petals under the teasing sting of the morning sun, and the feeling was indescribable. Ichimaru no longer cared or wanted to care where he was, who he was or what he was doing – the only thing that made sense in the world was the boy that squirmed so very beautifully in his arms, his smell, his taste, his _everything_, and Gin craved to drink and consume this child the way he had never desired anything else in his entire life. Toushiro's mouth was hot, wet and sweet, the small pink tongue inside reaching out just enough, rubbing against the man's one just right, and the fox found himself gripping tighter the thin little waist, clutching it with a sort of desperation as he reveled in astonishment at the limber arch that the stripper's back formed under the treatment. Hitsugaya's skin beneath the material of the shirt rose under the smallest brush, responding wantonly, as the boy melted into the tiniest caress the way a pampered kitten would, meowing delicately just like one and causing Ichimaru's lower regions to heat faster than ever.

_Fuck this._

Gin purred in pleasure as his little partner broke the kiss to move down on the man's neck, making a trail of petite little kisses that quickly morphed into deep, experienced sucks as the boy explored the new territory, moaning lowly in his throat as the fox's hands slid down to roughly grope his ass cheeks through the jeans. Reaching to work the buttons of the bartender's shirt open, Toushiro never broke away from abusing the smooth skin before him, taking his time with every exposed inch and only ripping away from his task when Gin pulled him back to claim his mouth. On a couple of occasions, the man reached to undo some of the boy's clothing as well, but Hitsugaya swatted the offending digits away with no mercy, offering absolutely no explanation whatsoever as he continued his job in pleasing the older man.

Biting back a little bit of his discontent at the rejection, Ichimaru tried to pull the gradually descending boy up to him and treat the sweet, unblemished neck in a similar manner, but Toushiro jerked away instantly.

"No. I don't need that." He whispered softly before dismounting the chair and dropping to his knees right between the man's spread legs, a look of determination settling on his face as he reached to undo Gin's belt with a couple of deft, almost frugal tugs. (...)

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><p><strong><em>Missing scene is in my LJ account. You can find links for that in my author notes and my profile page.<em>**

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><p>(...)When Ichimaru broke away, the teen was still descending from his high, panting harshly as he tried to get himself together. The fingers inside his ass withdrew carefully and he winced at the emptiness that irrevocably followed, before slumping back against the broader chest, not really having the strength to feel surprised when the fox's arms came to wrap around his frame.<p>

"Did you get hard again?" Toushiro mumbled bluntly as he felt the undeniable bulge against his backside. Ichimaru chuckled, pressing his cheek to the smaller one's temple for a moment.

"Yeah." He noticed kind of lightly. "But I'll manage."

"I made a mess." The boy stated kind of guiltily. "On my boss' floor, chair and one of his employees."

Clicking his tongue in mock reprimand, Ichimaru lifted the teen off of him and stood up before sitting the younger male down again and ordering him to stay still. A minute of searching around the office later, he came out with a packet of wet wipes that he used to clean up the too-spent-to-protest Toushiro, his own jeans and the floor.

"Why are you being like this?" Hitsugaya asked tiredly when he was handed his jeans and boxers and he began sliding into his underwear idly. Before him Gin arched a quizzical brow, arms lifting to fold over his chest as he eyed the smaller male curiously.

"Like wha'?"

"Nice." Toushiro mumbled the word quite half-heartedly as he put his socks and sneakers on before finally standing up to finish pulling his jeans up. His hands instantly reached to button his shirt, cover the bared shoulder there even as he kept gazing at the bartender guardedly, waiting for the right words to string into a sentence in his head. "I don't know what to expect from you anymore, whether it's to be pushed around, or insulted, or cuddled, _understood_…" he paused, closing his eyes for a moment as his brows knitted with anxiety that touched every feature on his face, every curve, dent, angle, until there was not a trace left of the previous bliss. Wrapping his arms around his waist, he swallowed with difficultly before looking up at the taller male again. "What do you want from me?"

"_Want_ from ya?" the man echoed with the first vestiges of his usual sharpness and Toushiro seemed to shrink under the tone.

"You don't even see it, do you? The way you keep toying with me." The boy uttered bitterly, his voice breaking a little at the end as he added shakily. "You're too blind, _too_ selfish to even see that! Fuck, if you could, you'd _know_ how much it hurts."

"Dun be overdramatic, pet, this ain't no pretty fairy tale, grow up and accept it! We live in a crap, real world, where there are no ways out, no magic, no luck, just _us_ and our misery. O' have ya forgotten tha' we work in a stripper club, tha' ya undress fo' money, dance fo' people ya dun even kno' an' that I'm probably gonna be sellin' cheap drinks ta perverted lonely businessmen fo' the rest of mah life?" Ichimaru gritted out evenly, his exasperation still sounding a bit off even as he glared down at the white-haired teen. Biting his lower lip to keep himself from saying something stupid, Toushiro looked up at the sailing, a cold, chilling feeling pumping through his veins like lethal poison as he swallowed the next blow like he always did.

"Do you even _care_ about me?" he asked quietly, wrapping his arms even tighter around his waist as he fought back feebly, frailly against the freezing sensation. He caught a glimpse of the taller male's features softening at that question, a bit of remorse peering through the cracks of the perfect mask… yet that just wasn't enough, it didn't help, didn't melt even a particle of the ice wall that had begun to build between them…

"Pet-" the man tried in something that was barely above a whisper, but the younger male shook his head frantically, suddenly overwhelmed by another thought.

"No. _No_. Do you care about me _enough_ to go further than… than _this_?"

Hitsugaya saw the man stiffen, his lips parting with difficulty as he stared down at the smaller male in a way that displayed complete and absolute loss. Ichimaru lifted his hands, seemingly trying to buy some time, but the words still wouldn't come and he just stood there, completely speechless. Toushiro felt his chest clench in pain, an agonizing emotion, familiar, yet different than anything he had ever felt before spreading across his whole body and making him shake from head to toe.

"I see." He whispered, vaguely aware of the thin layer of moisture that covered his eyes as he looked away, chocking when his stomach twisted in anguish. Disappointment, hurt, betrayal, all of that swirled inside of him and the more the silence stretched, the longer Gin remained unmovable, the harder it got to breathe. Toushiro felt manipulated somehow, unworthy, and so, _so_ stupid. For hoping… for _hoping_ even for a moment… "I should've… I should've known."

"Toushiro-" Ichimaru whispered regrettably, reaching for the smaller male, but the boy jerked away, bolting right past him and towards the door.

"Tell Jay I felt sick." he managed, unlocking the door in a hurry and rushing outside.

Gin never had the strength or courage to follow.

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><p><em><strong>AN:**_**__**Link to the missing scene (can also be found in my profile page):**_****queenofcitrus(then you write a dot and 'livejournal') (then a dot) (then 'com/1265')(then a dot)(then 'html')****_****__**_**  
><strong>_

_**Yup, it's not over yet. They still need to work out their life-shattering issues and have real sex. One more chapter to go. Two, if I'm too wordy. And then if you're interested, I'd like to make a 'Missing Scenes' chapter, cuz there were stuff I didn't add but was thinking about in this story. **_

_**REVIEW! Pretty Please?  
><strong>_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: This chapter was hell to write. I'm not entirely happy with how it came out, but please respect the efforts I put in it. Also, yes, I was too wordy, for which I'm truly sorry, but I guess you'll be having another chapter before the 'Missing Scenes' one. If there are no spaces between some text in italics, don't blame me, blame fanfiction - it removes the spaces in such texts and I'm forced to put them manually. I'm human, so I might've missed something. This song is 'Make Me Wanna Die' by The Pretty Reckless.**_

_**I wonder if anyone listens to the stuff I put here. *frowns* **_

_**P.S. Sorry if this doesn't live up to your expectations. T_T  
><strong>_

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><p>The Colour of Water<p>

**Act**** Seven:** Cracking

**7.**

…_Your eyes, your eyes_

_I can see in your eyes, your eyes_

_You make me wanna die_

_I'll never be good enough_

_You make me wanna die_

_And everything you love_

_Will burn up in the light_

_And every time_

_I look inside your eyes_

_You make me wanna die…_

Ichimaru woke up to a very peculiar feeling - something ticklish, vaguely resembling the brush of insects' wings that trailed along his skin and caused him to let out a low guttural sound of distress. He stirred restlessly, still somewhat asleep and unable to properly coordinate his movements, and his brows knitted together as he unconsciously tried to pull away from the invading sensation. The filmy shroud of unconsciousness slowly ripped from around his body and pulse after pulse of loud electric music pumped into his system despite the sluggish efforts that he was putting into remaining in the soothing embrace of the dream. A familiar, frighteningly overwhelming scent caressed his nostrils and he groaned, the first filaments of anger permeating his head and blood-vessels and setting them on fire.

"Pet-…" he growled lowly as the distinctive feeling returned, traveling in what appeared to be a haphazard pattern along his forehead. "If tha's ya, I swear, I'm gonna make ya regret this!"

"Calm down, I'm done." Came the strangely muffled and completely unperturbed answer, the slightly devilish undertone making the man snap completely out of his drowsy state. Peaking underneath the pale veil of his slit eyelids at the scene before him, Gin grunted with annoyance when he spotted Toushiro's face hovering very near over his own, the cap of what appeared to be a black marker hanging out between his lips. As the boy withdrew from his victim, a satisfied smirk twisting his mouth, Gin found himself clenching his jaw, his arms that had been folded in front of his chest while he had been slumbering, now untangling with some difficulty to push him in a straighter position in the chair he had obviously been occupying for quite awhile now. _You__ little __prankster__… _His gaze swiped up and down the distracted-looking teen before him (who was now putting the two pieces of his writing tool back together) and a splash of fleeting bewilderment washed over him, before the pieces of the puzzle all came back to him in the form of a large, messy pile. Oh, yeah. Theme night.

"You should be glad I didn't use a scalpel." Hitsugaya murmured matter-of-factly before tucking the marker in the front pocket of his unbuttoned doctor overall right next to something that looked like a very poor imitation of a thermometer. Underneath the white material of the overall the teen was wearing his usual, if a little toned down, style of clothes: a pair of slightly baggy dark-grey pants, the ever-present fingerless leather gloves, thick-soled combat boots and a T-shirt that said 'Let's Play Doctor' with very vivid and curvy caramel-coloured letters. Instead of the customary composition of chains, the stripper had a long stethoscope hanging around his neck and a pair of probably dull scissors sticking out from the side pocket of his trousers, obviously in some weird attempt to make his whole outfit appear more plausible. Behind him numerous girls with different variations of very exposing and very suggestive nurse costumes were wandering around the bar, some of them quite frustrated-looking, others unnecessarily excited about the new idea that Jay had introduced a week or so ago in order to attract more clients…

…Ichimaru was just happy they hadn't forced him to wear any medicine-related shit the way each and every one of the dancers had to do.

"What did ya do, did ya scribble somethin' on mah forehead?" the man enunciated slowly, incredulously, as he reached to brush the aforementioned place with his fingertips. Naturally, there were no traces of ink on his digits when he withdrew them for expectation, but the fact only made him even more uneasy, this time because he had a very good idea of exactly what kind of a marker had consciously, or unconsciously been used on him. This was bound to end not well. "Pet… what did ya do with mah face? Ya better tell me right now, cuz I ain't in no mood fo' childish pranks."

Hitsugaya's mouth twisted to the side at that comment, one brow forming a graceful arch as folded his arms in front of his chest and switched his weight to his left foot.

"That's what you get for sleeping on your workplace."

Ichimaru groaned loudly, lifting one hand to press his thumb and middle finger to either of his suddenly painfully throbbing temples. _Unbelievable. _Not only did he have to deal with this pathetic excuse of a job, now with absolutely no chances of running away from the sordid life that Fate had laid out for him, but he also had to endure the boy's awful ideas of having fun, and the mood swings that Toushiro had the habit of displaying in the worst of situations. For the past few weeks or so, the two of them had constantly been swaying from not speaking to each other, to tolerating the presence of the other person, to launching into unnecessarily heated fights that irrevocably ended up with the boy being upset, frustrated, or in the most severe of cases – sitting in a heap of silent defeat somewhere away from Gin and other prying eyes. How long this was going to continue – and whether the vicious cycle was going to be broken soon – seemed like a question that no one dared to ask out of fear what the answer was going to turn out to be…

Ichimaru removed his hand from his face and with a thoroughly disgruntled expression made a move to stand, only to halt abruptly when one of the strippers – a tall blonde with incredibly large assets – froze dead in her track just to openly gawk at him. Next thing both males knew, she had burst into an uncontrollable guffaw, slapping Hitsugaya on the shoulder as she held her stomach and tried to say something through the suffocating waves of laughter.

"Sweetheart… You have a spelling mistake." She managed finally and Toushiro's eyes shot wide open in surprise at that comment, a soft gasp escaping his lips before he turned around to survey Ichimaru again, a look of extreme concentration emerging on his face. Gin felt unpleasantly scrutinized and on display as the familiar, now slightly squinted teal eyes, swiped over his face before settling on his forehead. He could almost see the strain that immediately seized the boy's whole frame, the thin streaks of frustration, which the effort irrevocably caused, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to care enough. And while Hitsugaya was examining his marker-marred skin, he couldn't help the dull, throbbing sort of emotion that seemed so prone to settling in the center of his chest every second that he was awake. He wasn't entirely certain what it was – he didn't dare call it desperation – albeit it did resemble that trapped, hopeless and so very listless ache that followed those hapless souls that simply hadn't had the luck to _not_ understand how unpromising their future really was. He had valiantly chosen to stay on the ship, yet the ship was still sinking. The dark, threatening clouds were still looming over his head, falling lower and lower, as though awaiting to consume everything that he was in one avid gulp… And the more time went by, the worse things seemed to get, even in such areas of his life that he hadn't previously considered that troublesome.

Ichimaru's grin withered, wrinkling like a burnt piece of paper.

…He had attended Mrs. Mori's funeral the previous day. _Yesterday. _Just a week ago he had been helping her rearrange her bookshelves so she could reach what she wanted more easily, and now… Now he was futilely trying to bring himself to crawl out of the pit that the event had thrown him into. She was dead._ Gone_. He had seen it coming, but he hadn't expected it, and now that it had truly happened, acceptance felt like swallowing a chunk of smoldering coal. He just couldn't do it fast enough.

"Are you-" Toushiro's wavering whisper pulled Ichimaru back to reality and once again, he experienced the now painfully familiar sort of longing that tended to latch onto his flesh, muscles, _bones_, like an infectious and persistent parasite, every time he looked at the white-haired teen. He couldn't remember if he had told the boy about what had happened with his neighbor – the last 24hours were still something of a fog that he had treaded through like a robot with very badly programmed software - but if he had, it kind of made sense that Hitsugaya would be trying to distract him in his own obnoxious ways. Now, how successful those plans were – that was a different story entirely, but it was the thought that counted. "Are you sure?" And again, that pitiful almost pleadingly hopeful sort of tone that could make one laugh out bitterly just as much as it could break a man's heart. Gin honestly didn't know which to choose, or if he even _could_ make up his mind for either of the options, as either seemed unfair. Either appeared too cruel to be applied.

In respond to the question, the blond girl just guffawed twice as hard, the sound obviously startling Hitsugaya as his lips parted ever so slightly and he glanced back at Ichimaru with a look of embarrassment and regret, hands lifting in some undefined gesture before his chest as though he was trying to think of something to say. Without so much as an angry growl, Ichimaru got on his feet and rounded both figures, heading to the bathroom as fast as he could without attracting attention. That proved to be quite a useless effort as by the time he reached his destination, pretty much every dancer in the club had stopped whatever they had been doing to giggle quietly after his retreating form.

* * *

><p>"Dammit, pet!" Ichimaru groaned, leaning over the plain white sink and towards the mucky mirror with a look of half shock, half irritation. Under the faint, flickering light that came from the limply hanging bulb above his head, the man could hardly measure the brightness of the ink and how noticeable it really was, but seeing as the letters failed to fade with only water (his suspicion that Toushiro had used a permanent marker proving to be correct), it was probably quite a catchy title that Hitsugaya had given him. <em>And<em>_ speaking __of __the __title __itself__… _What was probably meant to be an innocent 'Don't tip the barman' had (under the spelling abilities of the dyslexic boy) somehow transformed into a very messy, unevenly written "Don't trip the braman." – a cranky little warning that a lot of people would probably readily follow. _Perfect._

Sighing heavily, Ichimaru pushed himself away from the sink and, after one last snort at his reflection, headed towards the exit of the bathroom. He didn't hesitate as he grasped the rickety door handle and pushed it open, but he did grimace a little when the blast of loud techno-music assaulted him full power once again. He hadn't spent much time away from the almost suffocating glamour of the club, but by the time he did choose to leave the confines of his little barricade, a handful of middle-aged people had managed to enter and engage themselves with the company of the bustiest of 'nurses'. Or at least mostly.

The familiar surge of red-hot anger exploded inside Gin's chest and he felt his jaw clench as he watched some guy walk up straight to the side of pole podium and put a possessive hand on Toushiro's ass, cupping it rather crudely through the clothes for a moment before leaning forward to whisper something in the boy's ear. If Hitsugaya disliked the treatment, he definitely didn't show as his game face remained plastered firmly on even when the client bent a little and picked him up bridal style before very ostentatiously striding towards one of the private nooks. Ichimaru's brows arched rather impressively at the sight, the glimpse of a golden watch on the guy's hand making him a little queasy. A rich one, again? Toushiro sure knew how to earn his living…

Trying to ignore the few chuckles (and the recurrent question of 'Who did this to you, man?') that came from the other clients' sides during his valiant journey from the bathroom to the counter, Gin ducked behind the bar and pulled a bottle of cheap vodka out of the many hidden places in his mysterious working place. He wasn't that stupid as to get drunk, _no_… But at least he could get some of the marker out of his skin with a little alcohol and soap.

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><p>It was around six in the morning when the action in the club completely died away, leaving only an exhausted buzz to vibrate vaguely in the now incredibly heated, incredibly stuffy air. All the clients were gone by now, their expensive colognes still clinging unpleasantly to one outfit or the other, and the usual, half-muffled complaints seeped from their respective corners of the club as the dancers talked in groups between themselves about the middle-aged men they had had to cater for. The discussions might've appeared quite trite – cheap, useless gossip about appearance, clothing and intellectual level – had one been forced to listen to those for the first time in their life… but for somebody who had been working at 'Nocturnal' for years now, it irrevocably became clear that such conversations were a necessity for the girls in order for them to maintain their normality. They needed to vent, Ichimaru realized, they needed to let the obscure visages of those leers wear off their skin somehow, and for that to happen, they had to let out whatever emotions had pent up inside of them. All the disgust. All the frustration. All of that spicy, hidden flavor of excitement that bubbled up inside of them when least expected – those feelings had to go.<p>

_One__ way __or __the __other_…

A relief or not a relief, though… When it came to those daily discussion that the girls fancied so much, Gin couldn't help it but think that _this_ was the most unbearable part of the job – the moment when the working hours finally came to an end and each stripper consciously or unconsciously got to backpedal mentally to what she (or he) had had to do, and who for. It was the curse of each performer, he had heard Aiko say once, to have to look at yourself from aside and see your own body, your own face, and not recognize it. It killed the alleviation of knowing it was over for the night, and it destroyed the hope that you could somehow feel better once you got home… Life was a roller-coaster as much as it was a stage. A stage that you never got off, that you never descended, changed, left… Things were designed to be difficult.

That much Ichimaru knew.

Glancing briefly at his watch, Gin noted that it was nearly six in the morning, meaning the sun was yet to come out. By now Toushiro had managed to apologize a few times, change in his unusual style of civil clothes, apologize some more, and amiably point out that there was practically no trace of ink left on Ichimaru's forehead after the fox had carefully tended for the misspelt message. While Gin collected every last one of the glasses that had been left on the tables and proceeded to wash them up, Hitsugaya chose to stay behind everybody else, probably to make sure the bartender was alright. The boy didn't say anything about the actual reason he was there, just sitting lazily on the edge of his bar stool and dangling his legs in the air like a child might feel tempted to do on a playground swing, but something in the depths of the now slightly dull teal eyes told enough for the man to be sure that he had mentioned his neighbor's decease to the dyslexic teen. As he was wiping one of the last few (now cleaned) cognac glasses from the excessive moisture, Ichimaru had to admit it to himself that he not only didn't remember such conversation occurring, but was also pretty sure that if it had, he hadn't consciously talked about his personal dramas to the stripper… Which made things just a little bit worse – if he had _un_consciously blurted out what had been on his mind while stuck in his personal limbo between self-pitying, self-loathing and misery, then what did that make Hitsugaya? A drainage method for that part of Gin that the fox had been trying to suppress for years?

"Finishing up?" Toushiro asked as he spun fully around along with his seat before stopping just in front of the barman. He looked tired, Gin noticed, _very_ tired, the pallor around his eyes and along his temples just a little bit more intense, a little bit more startling, turning the flesh there into a thin veil of white with a light bluish hue rather than the usual smooth, milky colour. Even the soft smile that was trying to pull on the teen's lips appeared a bit used, like he had maybe worn it one too many times that night to be able to summon it back full force so quickly. Hitsugaya wasn't happy, Ichimaru realized, and a string was struck inside of him all of sudden, the statement now sounding a thousand times heavier than, say, the way it would've been a few days ago. Of course, the fox had always known that the boy was not fond of what he was doing, that he was truly searching for another decently paid job as much as his free time allowed him, but at the same time… He had never fathomed _exactly _how wretched the white-haired stripper really felt. A part of the man wanted to ask: _did_ Toushiro always look so bad at the end of his work-night? Did he collapse in exhaustion in his lonely, unwelcoming bed upon arriving home, and did he cry? Did he cry, sometimes because of what he knew he had to do, sometimes because of _who_ he was, because of what he couldn't possibly achieve even after a lifetime of trying? Did he cry in the desolating silence of his cold room when he got back after a fight with Ichimaru, or did he just lay there, numb to the world and trying to comprehend what and why Fate had dished out for him?

As he watched Hitsugaya tilt his head to the side in a sort of an impatient gesture, Gin felt his own stomach contract funnily even as he remained completely calm on the outside, mechanically wiping glass after glass and lining them in a perfect row to his left. He noticed the familiar shroud of emotional blindness trying to drape over him again, but he shoved it away, for the first time making the conscious effort to fathom what had been standing before him all along. And what he saw, underneath all the anger, frustration, jealousy, all the hurtful words he had thrown in desperation to shut his eyes to the truth, it could all be summed up pretty easily: _I__'__m __so __sorry __I__ couldn__'__t __save __you. __I__'__m__ so __sorry __I __couldn__'__t __do __the __right __thing. _Now, looking at this boy, sitting here next to the bartender in his own silent attempt to offer comfort and friendship to the same person that had been throwing those back in his face repeatedly, time and time again, Gin felt like crap. He had been trying to blame the very person he couldn't protect for what he, himself, had failed to do. He had accused, and bullied, and tortured someone who could never truly fight back, and he had _never_ wanted to see… See just how much Toushiro was suffering, see how _alike_ they both were. Such knowledge, Ichimaru thought bitterly, his grin stretching inexplicably at the sides as though he was silently mocking the world's wicked idea of an irony, _such __knowledge_ he had naturally tried to avoid in order to preserve his own mind and sanity. With Mrs. Mori and Amanda both gone from his life, Gin wasn't sure if he could do this anymore. If he could truly carry on as though nothing had happened, as though nothing was _happening_.

"I can give ya a ride home." The bartender suggested lightly, but Hitsugaya shook his head, reaching to pinch an invisible piece of lint from the sleeve of his jacket and flick it away with his thumb and index finger.

"No need. I'll just catch the bus."

"Well, I'm offerin', which means it ain't no problem fo' me ta drop ya off. Ya can't rely much on traffic at this hour."

"You can't rely on a lot of things at this hour." Hitsugaya pointed out evenly, giving the other male a meaningful, slightly guarded look from underneath his lowered lashes. "Especially not when it comes to people."

Wiping out the last glass and tossing the towel over his shoulder with a sigh, Ichimaru braced both hands on the edge of the counter before leaning over it and towards the boy. The expression of almost startling earnestness had settled upon his features much like a fine layer of paint that coated an already prepared plaster figure, and he spoke up, this time more lowly.

"'m not gonna touch ya, pet. Not if ya dun want me to."

The sound that rolled out of Toushiro's mouth was a spectacular mix between a huff and a laugh, snapping in the air like a little shock of scalding electricity even as the boy leaned back in his stool a little, obviously trying to increase the distance between himself and the other male.

"Well, I don't think I can really trust you when you're upset. Like with Amanda. And to be honest, I'm genuinely scared of what I might do if you push hard enough." Toushiro enunciated quietly and the regret that flashed in his tone burnt Ichimaru similarly to a smoldering ember. This wasn't good.

"I wasn' upset." Gin insisted, slightly immaturely. "'s irrelevant what happened back then. I jus' wanna make sure ya get home in one piece."

"I will, don't worry." Toushiro stated with a tight smile, already sliding off his stool and to the floor. "You still need to figure out some things, Gin. I don't want to get in the way."

"Then what were ya doin' staying behind, huh?" the man inquired, a bit of irritation mixing with the customarily half-mocking tone. Toushiro just smiled sadly at that, nimble fingers already working their way in his fraying leather jacket.

"Being weak." He said quietly before turning around on his heel and walking out of the bar.

* * *

><p>Without Toushiro to distract him with his presence, Ichimaru finished up his work in the club over-hastily for about five minutes before fetching his jacket and heading for the exit, a bunch of keys jangling merrily in his hand as he turned off all the lights and ran a mental check over everything that he should've done. He hadn't missed a thing.<p>

Pushing the door open, he walked out and closed it behind himself, turning around to lock up with a small frown on his face. The morning darkness made it a little hard to see whether he'd got the key in the keyhole, and right now the task seemed even harder as the gentle autumn rain that was drizzling over the still empty streets appeared to be intensifying the gloom. Eventually he finished up with a satisfying click and was just preparing to head towards his truck when something caught his attention and made him freeze dead in his track.

To a less observant person the strange black thing that was lying in a forming puddle of water might've seemed unimportant and easily neglectable, but for Gin, who had seen the very same object millions of times before, twirled around in a pair of pale glove-clad hands, this little discovery was more than just unwelcomed. It was _alarming_.

With one quick glance around, Ichimaru crossed the distance between himself and the gadget, picking it up from the asphalt with a sense of inevitability that only increased when he flipped it over and wiped the moist screen with his thumb in order to take a closer look. The plastic felt rough and uneven under his touch, lacking that fine and exquisite delicacy that the more recent versions of the same model possessed, and probably exactly because of this seeing such device nowadays was turning into an increasing rarity… A fact that made this little discovery all the more worrisome.

"Fuck…" he cursed, a crippling feeling of dread crawling up his spine as the dated device buzzed to life, informing its finder that it was indeed Toushiro's beat up mobile phone, alive and well, yet without its master anywhere in the near vicinity. Somewhere between the fog of anxiety and apprehension that was trying to blur his vision, Ichimaru couldn't help it but once again think that this thing was practically immortal. Like some kind of a super-being, it had survived all sorts of accidents in and outside the club, and was now, too, still functioning, even after what had probably been a perilous fall and a few minutes spent under the assault of the rain. How the water hadn't managed to permeate the core of the cell phone and mess with its system, was beyond Gin, but as he absently pushed several buttons to check the mobile's condition, a large, heavy lump of distress started to accumulate in the pit of his stomach. Underneath the layers of cotton and polyester that were his clothes, he felt his muscles go stiff with tension, and his brows knitted together in an almost painful frown that only deepened when he lifted his gaze from where it had been glued on the gadget just a moment ago to stare unseeingly before him.

_This can't be good…_

Toushiro might've been many things due to his dyslexia: easily distractible, forgetful, unorganized, etc, but it took quite a lot to drop your (exceptionally bulky) mobile phone and not notice. And judging by his own intuition, his own frantically raising pulse and the cold, suffocating sensation that was trying to choke and immobilize him, Ichimaru was more than certain something wasn't right. He had heard enough about hate crimes, he had seen enough articles in newspapers about victims of violence to know that being a male stripper was not the safest occupation one could come up with. And just thinking about it… just _considering_ the idea that someone could possibly hurt _his_ Toushiro made the man feel queasy; it quaked his whole world to the core like nothing he had ever imagined. _No__… __no,__no,__no__…_

_This is all wrong. All wrong._

Pushing those thoughts away before they had managed to overwhelm him, Gin turned around, wide, searing red eyes swiping with deranged urgency around the area for a trace of the boy - a trace that naturally wasn't there. His hand clenched tighter around the mobile he was still holding possessively to his chest and he looked back at the sidewalk where he had found the device, the obscure illumination of the street lamps depicting a rather unwelcoming little path before him – one that he was sure Toushiro had never taken before. Not by choice, anyway.

Without another moment to think things through, Gin bolted down the street, silently praying that he wasn't too late, that he could still _do_ something. His legs felt practically nonexistent as he ran, pausing for merely a second or so before the beginning of each allay so he could peek inside, find nothing, _yet __again_, and feel a crazy sort of desperation press down at his chest as though he was breathing lead rather than air. The calm autumn drizzle had transformed into a full-blown rain and it was now falling obnoxiously in his eyes, marring his vision and making the whole situation that much worse, because he had no idea where he was going, and he dared not call out for the boy out of fear that this could make things worse for the teen. There was practically no one out at this time of the day, and so there was nobody to ask, not a soul to seek help from, and even if there was, Ichimaru wasn't sure he would've risked spending a single trice talking to another human being. At this point, as he kept sinking deeper into the street and his own terror, he didn't think he was capable of trusting anyone other than himself. Of _blaming_ anyone other than himself… If he had just gone and stopped Toushiro… and there were so many times he could've, not just tonight, not just this time, this week, this month… If he had just had the courage to go against his own mind, this wouldn't have- …

…And then he heard it.

It was a muffled, barely audible cry, followed by the sound of something crashing against something else, but it was there nonetheless, and Ichimaru halted to a stop, his chest clenching in a deep, terrifying spasm. He was turning right before his brain could even catch up with what his body was doing, and he was moving again, pushing himself even faster as the narrow alley before him opened up and spread like the fingers of a large hand. He felt no ache and no fatigue as he ran, no physical discomfort or unwillingness, and for once, he did not diminish his view of the world to a mere slit of scenery that could filter beneath the protective curtain of his eyelids – instead, he kept his eyes wide open and ready to consume the world as it was… Ready to fight for those tarnished pieces of heart that he still had left, as long as it meant he could protect the one thing that mattered.

He was a miscreant and a sinner, Ichimaru, he knew that. He would never be a hero, or an example for anyone to follow, he would never achieve enough to stand out and be somebody… But right now, did any of that matter? Did it matter who he was, what he had done or what he hadn't been able to do?

_No._

All that mattered was the person that wasn't standing beside him this very moment, and like every other selfish, self-centered human being, he realized that just a moment too late…

Something white flashed in the distance and the sight of it nearly made Gin trip as a jolt of electricity shot through his whole being like a lightening. He saw Hitsugaya, back against the side of a car, and he saw the unfamiliar man, standing tall and menacing over the boy, and he saw those long digits clasped around the teen's throat, the look of pain and defeat on Toushiro's face, and the buckling of the smaller male's knees, the flash of gun, the fluttering of the beloved eyes as they attempted to shut the world out … but most of all, Ichimaru saw bright, burning red. Red that bled for a thousand bodies, red that ran prime and hot through him and set his muscles of fire, the kind of red that he could not rein in, even if he tried. He hardly felt like himself when he grasped the man's collar and yanked him away from the boy, grasping the wrist of the hand that held the lethal weapon so he could deviate the path of any potential shot. And a shot there was, but the piercing screech of a bullet as it ripped through the air did not reach him, only the satisfying crack of bone when he finally hit the man in the jaw and sent the stranger reeling backwards. The gun clattered on the ground useless and harmless without the cold-hearted finger of its owner to operate the trigger, and Ichimaru found himself punching again, this man's stomach, his sides, all the places that he knew the guy had hit Toushiro. He was so far gone by the time the stranger collapsed unconscious, that Gin was literally disappointed by having been forced to stop. He was gasping for breath now, aching, nearly soaking wet from the rain, but he couldn't bring himself to care about anything. Anything-…

"Gin-"

_Except_….

He spun around, eyes automatically sliding into thin slits again as the water from his damp fringe started dripping down into stinging rivulets, and he let out a low growl, frame slumping down wearily when he finally looked at Toushiro. With one trembling arm wrapped around his stomach, still coughing sporadically in attempts to regain his regular breathing, Hitsugaya was barely a pale, half-conscious shadow of himself. His teal orbs, weary and swimming with shock and terror, were now staring straight at the bartender, a bit of puzzlement reflecting in the mind-benumbing mix of emotions that filled those two pools in a way that made the man feel strangely disorientated all of a sudden.

"You came for me." The boy whispered hoarsely and the disbelief he never even tried to hide came to the surface with punishing sincerity that had Ichimaru crossing the distance between himself and the teen with two long strides. Then, as he wrapped his arms around the smaller male's shaking form, Gin found himself clutching this child for dear life. Like a dying man, clinging to the last thing that made sense in the world, to the last sparkle of pure light that meant something, that was worth living for.

"I've got ya." The man uttered softly, struggling to close his jacket around both of them for a moment. "I'm here, I'm here an' I've got ya. An' I'm neva' lettin' go again, okay? Never. Letting go…"

* * *

><p><strong>Act <strong>**Eight**: Completion

**8.**

The police came shortly once they remembered to call, arriving several minutes later along with an ambulance. Whether because the police officer was one of Toushiro's clients, or because the boy looked so wretched and shaken that no one wanted to protract the process, they arrested the man and let the other two go fairly quickly. By that time, it had turned out that the guy had attacked Hitsugaya outside the club and tried to drag him off – probably to his car, judging by the nature of the crime. How the boy had ended up so far away from 'Nocturnal' became clear after a very messy, half-sobbed explanation from the teen's side about how he had attempted to run off only to get confused and end up further away from his job place rather than the other way around. The stranger had apparently caught him there and with a couple of punches in the stomach made sure that Toushiro wouldn't repeat the stunt again.

"I don't even _know_ him!" the boy had cried out when the questions had apparently become a bit too much to bear. Ichimaru had nearly flinched at the underlying shade of pleading in the younger one's tone, but had remained silent, watching from a few meters away as Hitsugaya squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, obviously trying to block out the officer that was jotting down all testimony in a wrinkled notepad. "I-I don't know if he's come to the bar before, I can't possibly remember everybody. But he kept-… He kept saying that I had ruined his marriage. That I had messed with his head, that I had done it on purpose, and that my '_kind_' didn't deserve to-... I don't know. He made no sense, and he wouldn't listen when I tried to tell him that I don't even know his name."

The whole situation was absurd, however one tried to look at it. The guy was obviously a psycho (you didn't really need a doctor to see that), something had made him snap, possibly issues at home, and he had ended up looking for a human punch bag – anyone who he could blame his misery on – and had apparently remembered his several months old visit in 'Nocturnal'…

No one would miss a diminutive stripper boy, right?

Gin didn't really need one of the policemen to tell him not to leave Toushiro alone for a while: he had made up his mind to take the white-haired teen home for the night (well, day, actually) a long time ago. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the younger male was on the verge of an emotional breakdown and leaving someone by themselves at such a moment was simply unthinkable. Hitsugaya needed to get away from all the buzz, all the questions, the people, the rain, the smell of moist streets and awaking city… He needed to escape from the world for a couple of hours - just that. And then maybe after they had both had a shower, a cup of tea and lots of sleep, they could finally collect the pieces of their scattered thoughts and get a hold of themselves. Maybe.

A maybe was enough.

_Yes_. For the first time maybe _was_ enough, Ichimaru realized with a certain hint of surprise as he wrapped his arm around Toushiro's shoulders (his large jacket still draped over the boy's slim frame) and led them both back to the truck. He didn't need a constant, defined path to follow, rules to live by, ideas to pursue without a care about the price… he didn't _want_ that anymore. A chance, as small as it was, was perfect. Real. _Enough_…

And he was embracing it with opened arms...

They traveled in complete silence, Hitsugaya's small body curled in a ball against the window beside the passenger's seat, knees pulled to his chest and tiny fists twisting the edges of the fox's clothing tighter around him in a way that made the man pretty sure the boy had fallen asleep in his own tiny bundle. But then, just as they were already nearing Gin's street, the teen turned his head a little and spoke up, his voice thick and heavy, shattering just a bit at the end as he forced the words out one after the other.

"Have you ever wished you never met me?"

The bartender's brows formed two high arches as he glanced at Toushiro with the corner of his eye, not trusting himself enough to completely look away from the road. The teen didn't show any other signs of movement, face still half-glued to the window and lips twisted into an expressionless kind of shape that made the boy seem all the more overwhelmed by dolor.

"Why are ya askin' me this?" Gin murmured quietly, already sort of glad that they were reaching their destination. He had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going and as the other male's frame visibly shuddered next to him, that sensation only got worse.

"Just be honest. Please." This time Hitsugaya's voice bent unnaturally, cracking awfully with the last word even through the salient fight the teen was obstinately putting up. Exhaling gingerly through his nose, Ichimaru gripped the steering wheel tighter, _harder_ and gradually began slowing down till he was pulling up in front of a rather tall apartment building. The gravel popped and cracked under the tyres as he maneuvered the truck properly in the not-so-vast space that was provided for parking, and the sound felt like some sort of a mocking cackle that just underlined how quiet everything really was inside the vehicle. Wasting a few more moments to adjust the machine, Gin tried to come up with a good enough answer for the teen's question, a bit of that deep, burning kind of emotion corroding his stomach even before he had started talking. He wasn't going to go an lie to himself by saying he didn't know the answer, but giving that answer felt both too right and too wrong altogether, making him procrastinate his retort till he had completely killed the engine – a decision that he dearly regretted once he finally turned to look at his little passenger.

Toushiro's whole body appeared to had grown even smaller, hiding into itself as the frown on his forehead had smoothened out into an indescribable, trapped sort of furrow that seemed to reach the very corners of his lips and tug them into a trembling resemblance of a bitter smile. A thick layer of unshed moisture had gathered over his eyes, the glaze flickering glossily in the meager, rusty sunrise light even as the teen battled to hold back the tears. The whole sight was so personal, so emotionally saturated, that Ichimaru found himself swallowing hard, praying that the boy didn't look at him _now_ because even without that intense teal gaze directed at him, Gin felt stripped off every ability to lie, every desire to deceive, every part of him that could pull him out of this situation unharmed.

"Yeah… More than once." He admitted lowly, and when Hitsugaya's eyes fluttered shut in defeat, hot, heavy tears rolling down his cheeks, a pang of pain shot through the man's body like a dose of scalding poison. He forced the lump of guilt down his throat and tried again, this time more quietly, more imploringly. "Pet… I wouldn' have if I didn' care _so __fuckin__' __much, _dun ya get that? If ya hadn' changed so many things fo' me, if yer comin' inta mah life didn' make a difference, I wouldn' have spared ya a moment of thought... But it does, it _does_ matter, you _do_ matter."

"Not enough, though." Toushiro choked out, eyelids still lowered as he refused to look at the man beside him and reached with trembling fingers to wipe the moisture off his cheekbones even as the tears kept coming, silently and pitifully, in a punishing sequence that never seemed to cease. "Not nearly enough."

"Tha's not true."

"It is and you know it." The boy snapped weakly, pursing his lips hard for a moment, harder, harder, _harder_, till his mouth was a mere white line of tension and anguish. "You're everything, but you are nothing to me. And that's your choice. I just have to learn to respect it."

"Pet-"

"Cuz next time you might not be there when a psychopath decides to start his serial murder career with me." Toushiro finished acidly, the flavor of mockery in his tone not necessarily directed at Gin as he pulled his knees even tighter to his chest and let his chin fall on top of them with a sigh. "I wish we had a beginning so we could have a closure. A real closure, with lots of shouting and name calling and everything... But I guess I don't deserve even that kind of a luxury, do I…?"

Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, Ichimaru was out of the truck, rounding it with stiff, determined strides, and yanking Toushiro's door open with urgency that seemed to make the boy jump back with a hint of anxiety. The pair of startlingly large, if slightly wary jade eyes, widened just a bit and Toushiro's breath hitched as Gin braced his hands on the roof of the truck and leaned inside, slowly, slowly, till Hitsugaya had nowhere to run without it being too obvious. Till there was no personal space in existence that either of them could consider minding, and the tips of their noses were nearly brushing against one another.

"I'll be there every fuckin' time an' I'll beat up as many psychos as I havta. Dun ya eva forget that. Dun ya ever even _doubt_ it."

"I don't want you to give me promises that you'll be trying to forget tomorrow." Hitsugaya whispered in a flat, defeated voice. "I know that I'm no good for you. You could've been so much happier now, with Amanda."

"Happier?" Ichimaru repeated incredulously, his exclamation half a laugh as he let his right hand slip off the roof of the car and reach before him to gently cup one of Toushiro's cheeks. "I'd neva be happy with her. I wanted to believe otherwise, an' I tried tellin' mahself tha' I could do it, but at the end of the day the thought o' marryin' tha' girl terrified me beyond belief. I wouldn' have shown up on mah own wedding, pet, I realize that now… I wouldn' have been able ta get through with the ceremony, with or without meetin' ya at all." Sinking down till he was crouching beside the boy's feet, gaze fixed up at the teen and the place where his own thumb was caressing the pale flesh under the other one's red-rimmed eye, Ichimaru tilted his head to the side before continuing, much more gently than before. "It scared me, from day one, how well ya seemed ta know me, how ya managed to figure out things about mah life, mah problems, _mah __mistakes_, before even I could sort those out. Ya were so certain bout everythin', in your own pure and honest kind of way, tha' I-… I guess I didn' kno' how ta deal with it. Didn' kno' how ta cope with something so young, and innocent, and so, so much smarter than me, in so many ways." He paused, watching intently as the boy's features crumpled with barely contained emotion, features twisting with disbelief as he shook his head, again, and again, and again, a small 'no' occasionally forming on his lips even when Gin's left hand found the teen's other cheek and held him still. Pausing until he was sure Hitsugaya was looking at him, Ichimaru took a deep breath and added shakily. "I'm so, so sorry, Toushiro. For everythin' I've eva done or said ta hurt ya… I am sorry."

Next thing he knew, he was struggling to maintain an armful of Toushiro.

* * *

><p>Ichimaru's apartment was consisted of one bedroom, a bathroom, an incredibly small kitchen and a modest living-room. The walls were peeling around the corners, the chipped paint screaming for renovation that it was hardly going to see in the near future, and the lamps seemed somewhat squalid and unclean, spreading wooly artificial light around themselves in a way that only made the whole flat seem all the more unwelcoming. Everything around the place screamed 'bachelor': from the piles of clothes, thrown in peculiar and unfathomable places around the abode, to the wide variety of junk that decorated every surface available and the complete lack of organization that the man failed to notice unless he was in search of something.<p>

Gin had never really cared much about how his apartment looked to the few visitors that he'd ever had there, but now that he opened the door and stepped aside to let Toushiro walk in, he had a moment of vague self-consciousness - a feeling that easily dissipated when the boy turned around and gave the bartender a small smile.

"Looks exactly how I've imagined it." He pointed out quietly, if a little teasingly, and Ichimaru just shrugged, unsure what else to do as the relief washed over him like a soothing tide of lukewarm water.

It took the man about five minutes to remember what he had to do, but once he did, the work itself was executed fairly quickly. Without much ado, Gin produced a pile of towels from the top of his wardrobe, a pair of worn out navy blue slippers and a set of comfortable cotton clothes that were undoubtedly incredibly over-sized for Toushiro's small frame. Once he had fetched everything that was needed, Ichimaru proceeded to usher the boy in the direction of the bathroom, telling him to take a shower and try and relax while he prepared some tea. Hitsugaya appeared slightly baffled by the fuss, but didn't protest, probably _both_ too tired to do so _and_ too tempted to wash the night off his skin to even try to be modest about it.

A minute after he heard the bathroom door close, Ichimaru found himself getting increasingly frustrated with the horror that was his cramped kitchen. Maneuvering between the old fridge and the large, rusty sink proved to be nearly impossible as his tall, lanky body appeared wrongly designed for such environment (even with all the diligence that he had put in learning how to operate in such atmosphere over the years). With some grumbling and lots of efforts, the man eventually managed to get a hold of the small jar at the very end of one of the top shelves and pop its lid open, glancing inside with a sense of victory that quickly vanished once he saw what rested inside the little glass sanctuary.

"Great." The bartender murmured, mildly irritated as he realized that he barely had enough tea for one cup, let alone two. Tea wasn't exactly cheap nowadays, but it was one of the few cravings that Gin allowed himself to indulge, and so he made a mental note to refill his supplies later on, before launching into yet another quest, this time for one of those packaged teabags that he hated so much.

Twenty minutes and some more, half-muffled cursing later, Ichimaru had successfully set a tray with two cups and whatever snacks he had managed to find… which wasn't all that much. _Actually_, he realized, a bit of gall rising in his throat as he surveyed his sad creation, this was an incredibly pathetic way to greet a guest. No wonder he rarely had any.

The soft sound of the bathroom door being opened and closed somewhere in the apartment snapped him back to reality, and he bit the side of his mouth, deliberately forcing his body to remain still even with the quiet tap of slippers-clad feet patting around the place. He remained in his spot till he was sure Toushiro had retreated to the living room, a deep exhale escaping the man's lips as he glanced at his watch. Leaning lazily against the counter on one arm, he tried to coerce some patience into his system, giving Hitsugaya the time and space he needed to get decent even with Ichimaru's first instincts whimpering to get the fox moving _this __very __moment_. In any other circumstances he wouldn't have bothered to be this considerate of whether the boy was properly dressed or not, but he had the feeling that in the light of the recent events he could do at least that much.

When he finally decided it was okay to enter the living-room with his arsenal of tea and whatnot, he was surprised to find Toushiro standing at the far end of the room, hands gripping the edge of the over-sized shirt he was now wearing to pull the thing upwards and bare his stomach. Instantly, Ichimaru felt his whole body go rigid, his scowl deepening considerably as a flash of blue caught his eye for barely a second before the boy noticed him and quickly smoothened down the fabric of his attire.

"Hey." He murmured quietly, a nervous smile tugging on the edges of his lips as he turned to face his host gingerly, somewhat restlessly even. Placing the tray on the nearest surface that he found, Gin slowly made his way towards his diminutive guest, watching Toushiro's face closely, intently, almost as if he was too afraid to look away, lest the boy disappeared in that little particle of time. Like a robot, programmed to be doing just that, Ichimaru found himself standing unnaturally closely to the shorter male, one hand tentatively reaching to take a hold of the edge of Hitsugaya's shirt and tug on it just a bit.

"Ya dun havta hide from me." Gin stated firmly, head lowering as he watched his own fingers twitch uneasily around the garment before carefully, deliberately lifting the fabric up to reveal what was laying underneath. He could literally hear, feel, _sense_, the boy's breathing as it hitch somewhere near his own shoulder, tension pouring in Toushiro's every muscle despite how hard the man was trying not to pay attention to the reaction, focusing instead on the inches of bruising skin that prickled even without him touching it. "Ya hear me, pet? No hidin'. Neva'. Again…" He brushed his thumb across the purple splotches, caressing them one after the other, in a remorseful gesture that he knew the other one would understand, and felt his own brows knit together with the strain, and guilt, and the desire to make it better. Fix this, in some, _any_ way… Because wasn't it his fault that it had come to this? Wasn't it he who had guided Hitsugaya down the thorny, dangerous road that he was now walking upon? _Why __did __it __have __to __come __to __this __so __I__'__d __learn__…__?_ _Why did I have to be so wrong, about so many things, so many times... _Before him, clad in just a pair of grey sweats and this meager, white cotton shirt - over-sized to the point where it bared half of his left shoulder for the world to see - Toushiro looked astoundingly small, frail, untouched… From the tips of his fingers, to the foolishly exposed neck, the sea of damp spikes that fell in such childishly unkempt mess, and the slightly parted plush lips, Hitsugaya was, without a jot of doubt, the most beautiful, the most _perfect_ person that Ichimaru had ever seen.

"I didn't want you to be angry." The boy whispered and Gin felt the suffocating urge to block out that helpless, mellifluous sweetness that was this creature's voice. _Angry_? How could Toushiro even _consider_ that?

Like a madman, losing himself in a dream-like reality, Ichimaru lifted his gaze and stepped just a little closer, both his hands now toying with the edge of the teen's shirt. His eyes slid open just a bit and he met Hitsugaya's timidly widened ones for a trice before leaning forward to press his forehead against the boy's still slightly damp one. In a moment that failed to belong to the reality, a moment so effervescent, so beautiful, _lost_, that it _hurt_ to watch, Toushiro's fingers lifted to slide up the man's chest until they found the back of Gin's neck and settled there in a trembling knot of anticipation. _How__ can__ this __be __wrong? __How __can __it __be __wrong, __when __it __feels __so __right__…__?_ Captured in their own bubble of wonder and uncertainty, the two of them stayed this way, ensnared, forgotten, and so frighteningly unsure of what to do next. How to carry on, when they had been tiptoeing along this thin borderline of desire for such a long time...

And then…

"I really want ta kiss ya right now." Ichimaru susurrated, moving just a bit till his breath was ghosting right over Toushiro's parted lips. He felt, rather than saw, the boy's eyes flutter shut in an inexplicable, platonic kind of delight.

"Do it." Hitsugaya uttered weakly, similarly to a soldier, giving up on a hopeless fight.

And then their lips touched, and that was it. _That __was __it_.

One word.

_Completion. _

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Well, then... I feel that I'm losing my GinHitsu readers... So go on and prove me wrong! Review! *Bambi eyes***_

_...**Next time: SMUT! Then in chapter 6: Missing Scenes. And maybe some more smut, if I feel like it. ^^**  
><em>


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Okay. Last OFFICIAL chapter. I wanted to get that done like 2 weeks ago but then guests from abroad came and i didn't have a single spare minute. It was hell. I wanted to actually get this done for Toushiro's birthday or at least Christmas, but no such luck. T_T Anyways, to all you guys, Merry (Belated) Christmas, and Happy New (Approaching) Year. xD This will be another SMUT WARNING! Also...**_

..._**Stila, my friend, I only added the handcuffs for you. xD**_

_**The song is 'Insatiable' by Darren Hayes and it has awesome lyrics. I had a reaaaaally tough time deciding on which part to add at the beginning of this chapter. SirenShadow's advice helped me out here.  
><strong>_

**ATTENTION: DUE TO THE RULES OF THE SITE, I HAVE REMOVED A SCENE from this chapter so as to not cause problem with its CONTENT and I have placed said scene in LIVEJOURNAL.  
><strong>

**_**Link to the story IN MY PROFILE PAGE or this:**  
><em>**

**_****queenofcitrus(then you write a dot and 'livejournal') (then a dot) (then 'com/1494')(then a dot)(then 'html')****_**

**_**Please, support the petition to allow writers to have stories containing lemons - you will find the petition by googling 'petition to stop the destruction of fanfiction'**_**

**_**or... www(then dot)change(then dot)(then org)(then this /petitions/fanfiction-net-stop-the-destruction-of-fanfiction-net)  
><strong>_**

**_**Till then... I'm saving my stories pretty much. :3**_**

* * *

><p>The Colour of Water<p>

**Act Nine:** Insatiable

**9.**

_When moonlight crawls along the street_

_Chasing away the summer heat_

_Footsteps outside somewhere below_

_The world revolves I've let it go_

_We build our church above the street_

_We practice love between these sheets_

_The candy sweetness scent of you_

_It bathes my skin I'm stained in you_

_And all I have to do is hold you_

_There's a racing within my heart_

_And I am barely touching you..._

_Turn the lights down low_

_Take it off_

_Let me show_

_My love for you_

_Insatiable_

_Turn me on_

_Never stop_

_Wanna taste every drop_

_My love for you_

_Insatiable_

Ichimaru couldn't help it but marvel silently at how small, and frail, and easy to handle Toushiro seemed in his arms now, how effortlessly he could feel the smooth, tender skin even through the loose layer of cotton that was currently enveloping the boy's skinny body. Without his peculiar and eccentric clothes, wrapped around his thin frame like some sort of a protection blanket, Hitsugaya was no longer the bizarre, sinful attraction that lived and thrived in the ungodly underworld that was "Nocturnal"'s plush-upholstered mouth – he was a kid. A teenager - inconsistent, and obstinate, and capricious, and so proud, so affectionate… So beautiful. His tiny, slender fingers, splayed similarly to ethereal petals across Gin's neck, were possibly the most tender and loving gesture that the man had ever experienced, the smooth tips of those dainty little digits twitching with endearing timidity upon the bartender's skin. Their kiss felt unfamiliar now, novel, and for that matter peculiarly unexplored, like the first taste of something sweet, like the flavor of the most delicious treat imaginable…

…_The forbidden fruit itself…_

And suddenly, Ichimaru was no longer a twenty-something-year-old man with an unnaturally aged and wrinkled soul, his consciousness didn't weight with the thousand worries of a non-existent future, it didn't drip with the sorrow of the millions of realizations of how little he had, of how little he was going to have… Because Gin was young again, inside and out, he was a boy with no experience and no vicious ambitions for escape… Instead, he knew nothing, he craved no more than what he had right at this moment, for he was blind, deaf, foolish.

He was crazy in the only sane way possible…

And the slow, unhurried lip-lock that he was sharing with Toushiro now, the connection that seemed so much like a healed wound that had been left open and bleeding for so long, was almost pristine, _shy_, like that precious introduction that they had never had. The beginning that Hitsugaya had craved so badly, and the loud, clear, uproarious refusal for an ending – an ending of any kind. _Ever._

_At all._

Ichimaru slipped his right hand very slowly under the edge of the teen's shirt and slid his fingers along the delicately outlined hipbone, down the curve of an impossibly narrow waist, to the small of the child's back, where he allowed his palm to rest possessively against the warm smoothness. His other hand moved at the same time, lifting to bury long, slender digits in the tuft of still moist white hair and keep the younger male in place as Gin tilted his head to the side and moved his lips in a sort of a half-biting, half-sucking fashion against Toushiro's solicitously trembling ones. With the softest of mewls, Hitsugaya shuddered under the delectable treatment and obediently allowed his mouth to open, granting entrance for the taller male's tongue with the readiness of someone who had dreamt about this moment for far too long. With one harsh pull, Ichimaru had the boy pressed flush against his larger, taller body, and he was kissing the younger male deeply, ardently, maddened by a fever that was now setting his whole being on fire… The 'itch' that he had been dying to scratch ever since he had first laid eyes on the white-haired lad, was suddenly gone, erased by a much simpler, much more selfish desire now: the ravenous craving to be completed. To become one with his-… his-…

…lover. _Lover_.

…Lover… Gin, your _lover_.

_My lover. _Ichimaru faltered in his movements, pulling back just an inch to let the word shape in his head and adapt the needed meaning. In his arms, he could feel Toushiro's skin prickle and flush with anxiety, enflamed suddenly by the dull apprehension that the magic was broken, that maybe this wasn't going to end as nicely as he had hoped… and so the bartender silently pressed his temple against the boy's one, providing comfort for the child's doubt-filled heart, a simple consolation for those miniature and exquisite fingers that were now fisting the front of Gin's shirt, twisting the fabric with the genuine fear that the man would pull away and leave him standing there, alone, forgotten and unwanted. _My one and only_. Watching in some kind of a voiceless rapture as the realization suffused his whole being in long, sweet tides, Ichimaru allowed the smooth feeling to sink deep underneath his skin with no protest and no resistance. Then the lascivious sensation of yearning was swamping him again, and he felt conquered, overpowered, reduced to nothing but this indescribable craving as he captured the boy's mouth again and drank, drank, _drank_… He drank Toushiro's innocence, his eagerness, affection, _everything_ that he had never received, from anyone, _ever_. And yet, the more he took, the thirstier he felt, the more he coveted to give back everything that he could, to _surrender_ to this deluging sensation similarly to a drowning man that finally released his exhausted grasp on the last lifeline he had been clinging to and allowed himself to let go… And to _let go_ with in a whirlpool of mind-benumbing intoxication that incinerated him like a conflagration.

"I want ya so bad…" the man whispered against the teen's lips, yearning to convey what was seething inside his chest with touches rather than words. "I need ya so much, I jus' can't… I _can't-_…"

He could feel Toushiro tremble in sensuous excitement at the words, and he enveloped the barely-noticeable reaction with his arms, feeling it awaken every cell in his once slumbering body. This was real. It was the _only_ real thing in the world, and suddenly he couldn't let loose, he couldn't open his fingers and allow his downy nightingale to flee, for the sight itself was going to shred him to pieces. His heart and soul were stringed to this boy, Toushiro's petite digits were the only thing keeping him from crumbling like a hill of parched clay, and he was no longer afraid of admitting it. Hitsugaya was his little candle, his diminutive ball of glowing life, his, _his_… Mine, mine, _mine_.

"Take me." Toushiro chanted mellifluously, his voice floating with the taste of honey and apples to the man's ear. "Take me, I'm yours. Only yours."

Letting out an almost primal growl when the words leaked in the heated air between them, Gin swiftly bent down and grabbed the back of the boy's thighs, hoisting the smaller male up with surprising ease. Toushiro was light as a feather in the man's arms, barely any weight at all under those loose and unfitting clothes, and the fox felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him as Hitsugaya wrapped his long legs around the man's hips and pressing their mouth together - a candid expression of avidness that only seemed to blaze higher with the knowledge of how far they were going to go. In some blurred and wavering version of reality, Ichimaru groaned into the kiss and almost grudgingly started walking towards the door and out of the meager living-room, heading resolutely for his own bedroom. Toushiro clung to him like a little leech during the whole length of their (albeit short) journey, waiting patiently until he was laid down on the man's squeaky bed before he gave up the most delicious of whimper and opened his legs to allow the bartender to adjust on top of him properly. Above him, Ichimaru carefully placed his elbows on either side of the boy's head and carefully arranged his body above the smaller one, staring down at the person below with a strange, almost sad kind of awe. _Did we even… Did we even have a choice? A chance? An option of any sort?_ Barely registering the motions that his own hand was making, Gin reached to slowly, hesitantly brush a lock of damp hair from Hitsugaya's forehead – all his disbelief, all the regret he was feeling poured in that one single gesture and heightened somehow by how gingerly he allowed his fingertips to linger just a little bit longer on Toushiro's temple. Underneath the almost non-existent touch, the boy just let his eyes slide shut, a lone, deep exhale of longing ripping from his chest as he adjusted himself more comfortably against the mattress.

"Pet…" Ichimaru uttered, but before he could finish, Hitsugaya was shaking his head, a soft, understanding smile twisting his lips even as he refused to look, even as he persisted on keeping himself blind to the world for just a tad bit longer…

"I know."

And then Gin leaned down and pressed his mouth against the boy's one - a long, hard and desperate motion - pushing his hands under the brim of the shirt he had given to his little guest and caressing the skin there. His touches were cautious; full of trepidation that he couldn't even completely fathom yet as he pushed the material up _slowly_, mindful of the bruises that were marring the otherwise flawless flesh of his lover. A chunk of rock-like anger gathered in his throat at the way Hitsugaya's bruised stomach fluttered so restlessly under this butterfly brushes, but he bit his spite back, trying as hard as he could to leave that scathing emotion alone for a while. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to remember how late he had been to save the boy, he needed what they were doing now to be spared of such corruptions... This was _their _time, _their_ right and their wrong, and it was meant to stay that way, however the ending of this strange odyssey turned out to be… Those wishes and intentions all turned out to be thrown in vain, though, for as soon as Gin's thumb started lifting the garment up higher, Toushiro cringed at the bareness and lost track of the kiss, instinctively scrambling to get away from Ichimaru's hands even as his eyes momentarily caught a sight of the look of concern that quickly twisted the man's features. Without allowing the bartender to meet his hooded, glassy gaze, Hitsugaya propped himself on his left elbow, his right hand shooting between them to push the shirt back down and hide what had been exposed so foolishly a second ago.

"Let's not… take that off?" the boy whispered and Gin instantly recognized that tremble, the flavor of shame that Hitsugaya seemed to fail to hide so often nowadays and the presence of that same nuance of embarrassment in the child's voice made his jaw clench unpleasantly for a trice.

"Why?" he bartender asked, reaching to grasp Toushiro's thin wrist even as his gaze remained glued on the teen's pale face. "Ya didn' deserve this, it wasn' yer fault that it happened..."

"I know, I-I just-"

"What is it?"

Toushiro slowly sat up on the bed, finally daring to look up at the older man with his now openly vulnerable teal eyes, and he sucked a long, deep breath in, seemingly preparing himself for something major.

"I don't want you to think about-… I don't want you to pity me, o-or to think that I'm-…"

"What?"

The edge of Hitsugaya's mouth quivered.

"Tainted." He whispered, but the word echoed like a scream in the meager, silent room. _Tainted._

Unclean. _Disgusting_. Gin, I don't want you to think about how dirty I've become when you kiss me. _I don't want you to be reminded of what I do for a living…_

Ichimaru froze, lungs tightening considerably as he contemplated the way the smaller male's tiny, deliciously swollen lips slowly pressed in a painful and peculiarly uneven line, a deep, hard scowl knitting the boy's thin brows together in almost fearful anticipation. Hitsugaya's fingers had now moved to lay by his sides, twisting the sheets there in trembling little fists, and as Toushiro lowered his gaze once again to stare at his raised knees, a look of defeat crashed down on the his tiny figure, making his shoulder slump under the weight of the impossible burden. For the first time, after so many months, Ichimaru realized the effect that his constant insults had had on his diminutive guest and the fact forced something inside him to contract unpleasantly. No matter how hard he had fought to keep up his façade, or how quickly and diligently he had gathered the pieces of his broken mask, Toushiro's frame, bones, mind, pride had, in one way or the other, cracked all over under the shame that Gin's words had forced down his throat on a daily basis. Like someone who was rolling a once familiar tape after years of not watching the movie, the bartender saw a flash of hundreds of different moments, millions of insults and taunts, hours, and days, and months of cold, heartless teasing, and the slow, inevitable damage that this had caused. He had meant to make Hitsugaya feel humiliated for working in the stripper club, he had meant to try and make the boy quit… and yet he had somehow ended up doing so much more than that. He had coerced Toushiro to think of himself as something filthy, and impure, something that needed to hide away from the eyes of the masses, to remain as unseen outside the club as possible, and even right now, when they were so close to their long-craved absolution, the teen couldn't let go of the notion that Ichimaru found him somehow dirty. Touched. Soiled with the silt of the lowest of all humans, polluted by the eyes and hands of too many people to deserve the one that he truly wanted…

He had been hurting for far too long to just suddenly forget everything.

Sighing deeply, Gin reached to tuck a finger under the boy's chin and guide it up till Hitsugaya was once again staring at him, a look of timid expectation bracing his strangely lusterless eyes.

"You're perfect." The man whispered seriously, fighting his accent down as he spoke to make sure that his little guest understood completely just how earnest those words are. "So perfect. So beautiful and so innocent. Never think anything less of yourself. Never let anyone tell you otherwise." He paused, tilting his head to the side a little as his grin curved back up into a slightly teasing shape. "Mah lil white kitty."

The small chuckle that escaped Toushiro's lips was the most delightful sound in the world.(...)

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><p><strong><em>Missing scene is in my LJ account. You can find links to that in my author notes and profile page.<em>  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Act Ten: <strong>Swirl

**10.**

(...)

"Wha' does it mean?" Gin muttered softly, tracing his fingertips along the dark ink that adorned the boy's side. Above him, Toushiro let out a small chuckle, cuff-less hands successfully landing on his face to hide him from Ichimaru's curiously peering gaze as he obviously tried to procrastinate the answer. In the current situation it was quite a useless measure, really, for Gin seemed to have little to no intention of moving_ or_ letting the younger male move any time soon. They were still sprawled on the bed in the most leisurely manner possible, the man propped on his elbow somewhere near the stripper's stomach as he took his time exploring with a much cooler head the pale body before him.

"It's stupid." Hitsugaya groused sorrowfully, his voice a little muffled by his own palms as he tried to hold back another giggle. "It's really, really dumb. You'll laugh at me."

"Promise I won't." Gin replied flatly, poking a little at his lover's side as mindfully as humanly manageable of the wide armament of bruises that seemed to become more visible by the minute. "Ya have it permanently engraved on yer skin, I wanna kno' what it means."

The assurance appeared to have no effect as Toushiro remained silent, hidden behind his own hands with the stubbornness of a child who thought he was invisible if he covered his eyes. Letting his grin falter with a bit of annoyance, Ichimaru gave up a small sigh, nudging the boy again, a _little_ harder and a _lot_ more persistently now. This time Hitsugaya did react, jerking a slightly in the opposite direction and removing his fingers from his face to give the taller male a bit of a bitchy look.

"Ouch." He muttered evenly and Gin's grin transformed into a smirk, a single brow arching quizzically in further emphasize on the previous question. Rolling his eyes with annoyance, Toushiro sat up, his hands coming to rest on the mattress behind him as he contemplated the bartender for another short moment before saying. "It's from 'Pocahontas', okay? The Disney animation from like more than ten years ago…" sucking a deep breath in, the boy continued quickly, seemingly trying to get the explanation out as fast as possible, lest it got even more embarrassing if he dragged it out. "There was this moment when Pocahontas treaded into the river and said… said something along the lines of 'You can't step into the same river twice. The water's always changing, always flowing.' and, well… It's one of my favourite quotes, so…" he lowered his gaze, reaching to brush his fingers across the tattoo gently. "So I thought… why not? No one would know." Pause. "Well, except you, I just told you, and I know it's stupid, it's-"

"I'm in love with ya." Ichimaru blurted and the boy froze, lifting his gaze ever so slowly to look at the man before him with a strange mix of hope and disbelief. Toushiro's hands, one in his lap and one propelling him up, started to tremble and he shook his head, doubt filling up his wide eyes even as kept staring with an odd kind of expectation at the older male.

"Oh, God, don't joke about this." Hitsugaya whispered softly, brows furrowing in a sort of vulnerable, pleading expression. "Please, don't make fun of me, I can't take it. I can't take having you say something like that today and change your mind tomorrow."

"I'm not lying ta ya." Gin replied calmly, but the firmness in his tone was undeniable, rather pained even as he reached to brush a lock of hair from the teen's eyes. "I love you, I love you so much, I couldn't bring myself to believe it until now."

Toushiro felt his eyes begin to sting and he hurried to direct his gaze up at the ceiling, trying in vain to bring some kind of relief to his tightening throat by not looking at the man beside him. Ichimaru's voice and touch were enough though, and he nearly burst into tears when he felt the older male's palm on his knee, the inevitable '_What's wrong?_' feeling like a punch in the gut.

"We can't." the boy managed at last, a look of defeat falling across his features as he finally allowed himself to meet Gin's piercing slit eyes. "You know we can't. I might not be able to go to work for a couple of days because of what that bastard did to me, but I'll _have to_, eventually. And then what?"

"Ya'll quit." Ichimaru ground out resolutely and the teen's whole chest clenched. "Ya'll quit, an' ya'll go back ta university, I'll take care of ya."

"You can't take care of yourself with the money you earn, how do you expect to look after me, too?"

"We'll figure a way."

"I can't even get a driver's license. I'm _that_ unable to find myself a proper job." Toushiro muttered bitterly, lifting his shoulders dejectedly at his own uselessness. "I'm good at what I do now. As much as it hurts you to hear it. I can't just stop working and let you carry all the burden by yourself."

"I want to." Ichimaru said, his voice hard with an emotion that wasn't even anger now. Just empty hope on empty will that seemed to both thrive and wilt altogether. "Didn' ya hear what I jus' said? I-"

"And I love you, too!" Hitsugaya whispered heatedly, cupping the man's face with his small palms with desperation that burned deeper than any kind of frustration, spite or hatred. "Which is exactly why I can't let you do this. Don't you see? Don't you _understand_?"

Ichimaru's brows knitted together with the first signs of annoyance and he opened his mouth to say something, but before he could utter a single sound, the sharp ring of an archaic phone cut through the air, making them both groan. Slinking swiftly off the bed, Gin grabbed his old pair of boxers and pulled them on, languidly making his way to the end of the room to answer to the device's obnoxious call. Behind him Toushiro just let out a deep sigh, watching mournfully as the man walked away, the weight of the whole world seemingly pulling down on his otherwise broad shoulders. They had gone a bit too far maybe, marched to a war that they couldn't fight and couldn't win, and now that they were on the battle-filed, weaponless and outnumbered, neither knew what to do. Neither could see an outcome that didn't end with failure. Ichimaru was a survivor, yes, a man who could chew on bones day and night, scrambling for another coin just to get by… But they weren't doing well on their own as it was, they were still slipping down the steep hill to nothingness, and even the most fervent wishful thinking wasn't going to sprinkle them with lucky dust. Sure, they could try to last in the fairy-tale situation that Gin had offered… but how long were they going to manage to keep on like that before the world ripped them to pieces?

"Yeah, 's me… I'm aware…. Wha' does this mean? She… what?" Toushiro felt the inexplicable, almost hysterical urge to laugh as he watched Ichimaru's brows furrow in slight puzzlement while he talked on the phone. It was a rare, hardly extant expression really, one that Hitsugaya enjoyed a lot more than what he should've, and yet he blamed his current childish behavior mostly on the stress and exhaustion that were clutching at his muscles. He watched only half-seeing and half-aware as Gin muttered a couple of more words, nodding thoughtfully to himself before hanging up and turning around to slowly make his way back to the bed.

"What is it?" Hitsugaya asked, reaching to rub his brow with the knuckle of his index finger tiredly. "Good, bad?"

"Remember tha' elderly woman tha-"

"Mrs. Mori?"

"Yeah…" Ichimaru drawled, running a hand through his hair as he slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. "It was her lawyer."

"Her lawyer?" Toushiro repeated dully, blinking a little as slight bewilderment started to seep into his system, mixed with an odd kind of anxiety. "Should I be worried?"

Gin shook his head, both brows raising with what appeared to be a strange kind of a shock.

"Tha' weird old hag…" he muttered more to himself than anyone else before turning to look at his lover. "I think... I think we jus' might've inherited over a million dollars."

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><p><em><strong>AN: **_**__**Link to the missing scene (can also be found in my profile page): **_****queenofcitrus(then you write a dot and 'livejournal') (then a dot) (then 'com/1494')(then a dot)(then 'html')****_****__**_**  
><strong>_

_**So. I'm thinking another chapter for Missing scenes, which might even contain a cute little epilogue. ^^ This was seriously hell to write, people, so please leave me nice reviews. Every time I write a lemon I want to swear that this is the last time I'll write smut. So. Damn. Exhausting. *wails***_


	6. Missing Scenes & Epilogue

_**A/N: Okay, I'm kindda sick at the moment, so anything that sounds off, blame on my sickness.**_

_**This is it. The final chapter. The first three parts are missing scenes... I hope they are easily defined in the timeline, I did my best. There's a song only for the second scene, which would be 'Porn Star Dancing' by My Darkest Days.**_ _**For those of you who are following my work, the next GinHitsu fic I'll be writing very soon will be called 'The Colour of Earth', sooo... Add me to your Author Alert list! *waves the peace sign with a grin***_

_**Oh, well. Enjoy and don't forget to review.**_

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><p>The Colour of Water<p>

Missing Scenes

**Act Three (And a Half)**: Break

**3.5.**

There was no water. Again. _Again_, dammit! And no water… meant no coffee. And Gin needed his coffee, he seriously _needed_ it.

After grumbling for about twenty minutes about the second consecutive water problem for the past week, Ichimaru finally gave up, put on some decent clothes and strode out of his messy apartment clad in a pair of light blue jeans, a shirt, and some old jacket which suited the current weather conditions _almost _fine. A quick glance at his watch told him that there were a few hours left before he had to head for 'Nocturnal' so after a short moment of musing, he decided he could spend some time outside his flat for a change, maybe get a cup of cheap coffee and go for a walk in the park.

The late summer sun hit him hard in the face as he strode outside, forgetting for one unfortunate second that he had turned into too much of a night creature to tolerate such bright illumination, and instead of welcoming the day with a positive feeling, he just let out a small growl and stepped back in the shadows till his eyes adopted to the abuse of the light. One palm still lifted up to shield his face from the obtrusive sunrays, the man momentarily considered taking the truck and setting out for the center of Karakura the old, lazy way, but the idea was brushed aside almost instant. He could use some human activities, he decided sensibly after a minute of reluctance, and_ besides_… the endless driving from point A to point B, no matter how comfortable in terms of efficiency and convenience, was suffocating. He felt like he was always transferring from one box to the other, gradually morphing into a canned man of a sort, a person who always had some form of a barrier blocking his vision – whether it would be the windshield of the car or the walls of a room – and the fact that he was becoming more and more aware of this situation was seriously bothering him…

With that in mind and the fraying jacket clutched in the curve of his elbow, Gin made his way towards the sidewalk, turned left when he reached it, and then slowly strolled down the hill that separated his neighborhood from the more decent areas, a soft hum buzzing in his head as the familiar holey asphalt grated against the soles of his shoes. One of the nosy elderly women that lived across the street paused in her efforts to pluck the parasite plants from her balcony flowerpot and gave him a narrowed-eyed once-over, which the man returned with an amused grin and a wave of his hand. From what he knew, she thought that he was some kind of an evil pimp from the powerful lands of the underworld, luring men and women into unspeakable sins, and making huge profits out of their ignorance and dependence on him. Of course, that theory tripped and wilted when introduced to the meager, downright wretched apartment in which Ichimaru lived, the old clothes that he wore and the grumpy, doddering truck which he had the pleasure of driving, but those were details that local gossipers tended to just conveniently overlook.

…And then there was the shopkeeper of the regional department store, who spent most of his day outside of his shop, waiting in vain for some naïve soul to be foolish enough to be his client. A short-tempered and unpleasant man such as he seemed to be much more successful in chasing people away with his yellowing and dishonest smile rather than tempting them into buying something from him. Gin also knew for a fact that the guy was deeply convinced that Amanda was some kind of a prostitute, which the bartender supposedly called on a regular basis to keep him company, and while the idea was incredibly funny the first time one heard it, it got plenty of annoying with the time and the accusing gazes that Ichimaru continued receiving.

Sure, those rumors were most likely just the tip of the iceberg – there were probably so many other ridiculous stuff that people had come up with about him just because he wasn't one to socialize much, and because, yes, he basically didn't leave his apartment before sunset, but then again… what _was_ he supposed to do? Act friendly and neighborly when he obviously felt nothing even close to that? He could only imagine what he looked like in the eyes of all these miserable, bored people: a young man, fairly good-looking, with no roommates, no signs of a decent job, decent hobby, comrades or family of any sort… Except Mrs. Mori, that is, and he had already been familiarized with the ideas that everybody had about his visits to her little house – apparently the world was living under the illusion that he was after some fortune of hers, the mere assumption of which was more than a little odd, because the woman obviously had nothing but that crumbling home of hers and her insubstantial pension.

He was no decent person, no doubt bout that, but his gold-digging tendencies ended with Amanda.

Maneuvering his way down an increasingly busy street, Ichimaru headed for the one coffee shop that he considered decent both in terms of quality and prices. The place was snuggling a little to the side from the main stream of hurrying citizens, but it was usually full nonetheless, small in size, yet painted in bright candy colours and tastefully furnished to create an easy-going atmosphere. A uniform-clad shop-assistant was situated behind the tall glass counter, offering her customers a piece of cake or a freshly baked pie with their hot drinks: a luxury that Gin would've normally declined without a second thought.

Sweets, no matter how luring and attainable they seemed when eyed from aside, were an unneeded and expensive indulgence that he had no right to spend money on. The electricity bill was already pressing and he was yet to buy several necessary items that he had recently run out of, but as he waited in the queue to name his order, he realized that a couple of bucks were probably going to make little to no difference whatsoever. He also realized that he couldn't remember the last time he had spoiled himself with anything, the last time that he had _allowed _himself something that wasn't in the strict list of essential products… Sure, he was bound to go out on dates with Amanda and be a gentleman enough to pay whenever they went to a restaurant or somewhere else (occasions that undoubtedly crippled him financially for days to come, despite his spoon-fed girlfriend's only half-successful efforts to reduce the cost of their meetings to minimum…) but those were more or less obligations, not things that he really wanted to do.

And now that he was standing in the beginning of the line of people, in front of the smiling woman behind the counter, and inhaling the scent of freshly-baked goods, he couldn't help the small spasm in his stomach. It was a recognizable and familiar feeling, to be honest, that funny, childish need for something saccharine and not particularly nourishing, that desperate craving which he had neglected for years and which now seemed to wash over him with more power than ever, making him pause for a moment to hesitate about what to do.

A couple of minutes later, Ichimaru walked out of the coffee shop with a large cappuccino in one hand and a cardboard purple box with the café's logo in the other, the content of said container consisting of merely one piece of cherry pie and a white plastic fork. With an odd sensation curling in his throat – something between mild guilt and a shaky kind of anticipation - the man absently made his way down the aisle that led to the sidewalk, where he swirled left and then headed towards the nearest park, thinking with surprising lack of glumness about the amount of money that he had left for the rest of the month. It wasn't going to be one of his best couple of weeks, but the situation wasn't too bothersome either – he had survived with less – and _besides_, this one purchase… didn't really make that much of a difference for his already painfully thin wallet.

Sipping slowly from his hot coffee drink, the bartender carefully detached himself from the busy buzz of the main road and let himself be guided by some dull and barely half-aware part of his brain towards his new destination. A turn or two more, the crossing of a very narrow and deserted street, and he finally stood in front of the one of the few nicely-kept green areas in the whole of Karakura. His eyes met the familiar landscape of meticulously evened-out grass, already yellowing, sleepy trees and ageless shrubs with healthy starvation, and his grin softened a little, something peaceful and soothing touching the edges of his otherwise mockingly twisted lips till he felt almost normal. Almost content… The sensation was gone nearly as soon as it had appeared though, and he had shook himself off its crumbs with a sort of morbid resignation, prompting himself to walk further inside the park with a bit too much urgency.

A couple of kids dashed in front of him, probably chasing each other according to the rules of some feisty game, and he vaguely heard a thud and a cry once the brats were out of his sight, the sounds painting a rather plausible picture of what the outcome of their fun had probably turned out to be. The almost nostalgic rustle of dying leaves, the crunching of the ground beneath his feet and the rare voices of the other people that had decided to visit this place in this late afternoon, echoed in surprising harmony between the lukewarm clutches of this season, and Ichimaru found himself enjoying the little symphony of tones. As he continued down the prettily designed alleys between the already autumn-caressed shades of the park, he silently searched for a secluded bench for himself, hoping in vain that he could discover one soon.

At this time of the day the place was fairly empty in terms of middle-aged men and women (in general), but it was oddly full of children nonetheless, the occasional grandma or grandpa shouting feebly after the diminutive pranksters to calm down and behave. Gin didn't find the presence of these people particularly annoying or unpleasant in any way… he just wasn't used to it the way he probably should've been, and so he was naturally reluctant to compromise his short break from the clutches of 'Nocturnal' just to be considered a sociable citizen... In fact, he was probably doing everybody a favor. He certainly wasn't the type of person that the good mommies would like to see hanging around their babies, no matter how democratic of a country everybody wanted to make this one to be… Letting the slightly unpleasant thought slip from his mind, Ichimaru turned right on the next corner and froze dead in his track, surprise twisting his brows in something quite peculiar as his gaze landed on a lonely figure that was sitting on the nearest bench, an enormous oak tree hanging low over the small person in what could be interpreted as a protective stance.

"Pet?" his voice sounded a little rough and tad bit too uncertain, but the boy heard it anyways and his head shot up, equally obvious shock emerging on that porcelain face.

"Oh." Toushiro muttered hesitantly, his hands that had been resting peacefully in his lap just a moment ago, now twisting the material nervously as his jade eyes frisked all over the bartender's form. "Hey. Didn't think I'd find you here."

Ichimaru felt the sudden urge to point out that it hadn't been _Hitsugaya_ who had found _him_, but rather the other way around, but the words somehow dissolved on his tongue as he spotted the way the kid was dressed and the overall air of despair that was oozing in waves from the short stripper boy.

The white dress-shirt, however worn out and rumpled in random places, the now loosened grey tie, as well as the pair of dark trousers and black, (supposedly) polished shoes, were definitely something that he hadn't expected Toushiro to own. In fact, not only it was strange, it also looked quite pathetic… The clothes made him appear even smaller than usual, crinkled like a leaf, and downright vulnerable if one had to build an unprejudiced opinion on the kid in this very second. It wasn't an outfit that people usually wore on a daily basis, and it wasn't a preferable option for a walk in the park, either, so then-

"I had my driver's license exam today." Hitsugaya pointed out rather meekly, obviously noticing the bewildered look that the other one was giving him. "My examiner dropped me off in this neighborhood bout two hours ago. Maybe three."

"An' ya've been sittin' 'ere for two, maybe three hours?" Ichimaru questioned skeptically, his feet already carrying him towards the boy against any better judgment, Toushiro didn't protest when his colleague sat down beside him, but the slight apprehension in the curve of his lips was obvious, a shadow, a _reminder_ of the last conversation that they had had. Even now, in the peaceful equilibrium that the drowsy nature was draping around them, the memory of the dance that the teen had shared with his red-headed client just a day or two ago, still burned fresh and scalding between them. The desire to chase this artificial, fake unwillingness away was there: quivering in the air and just waiting to be grasped… but some kind of a fucked up notion of pride, immature obstinacy and too much unspoken words were standing in the way, so the problem remained unsolved. Ignored. And just a tad bit stifled under whatever it was that they were sharing now.

"I think so… You grow numb after a while and you stop feeling the discomfort of the bench." Toushiro mumbled awkwardly, his eyes darting guardedly in Gin's direction. "I felt like being alone for a while."

"They flunk ya." It wasn't a question – more like a painfully certain statement – but the bartender could literally _feel_ the sting that the declaration caused to his little companion, notice the tightening of those tiny white fingers around the fabric of his trousers and the raise of those thin shoulders as the teen accepted what probably sounded like an accusation to his ears. "Are ya okay?"

"It's the second time." The boy replied quietly, eyes slipping shut wearily as he let out a deep sigh. "It's the second time they flunk me. I needed this license… I needed-… It could've given me a more decent job. As a pizza deliverer. Or something. I don't think… I don't think that I have any more savings or patience to try again anytime soon."

"'m sorry." The pitiful attempt for a comfort slipped between the man's lips before he could help himself, but instead of making a nasty remark about it, Toushiro just shook his head dejectedly and said something about it not being Ichimaru's fault that he had dyslexia.

But Ichimaru was sorry anyway. And not because he was expected to be, not because some crookedly understood sense of moral and good-manners told him so, but because while he knew that he would never agree, approve or support the job that the boy had ended up with, it was still something of an alleviation to know that this kid was at least _trying_. Trying to figure an alternative to his rather inescapable predicament, a solution, and a compromise, and basically any other means for survival… So maybe they were going to end up fighting again tomorrow. Maybe their bickers would stretch further than far, further than what was acceptable, or normal, or bearable… but right now, _right_ now they could take a break.

For they both fuckin _needed_ it.

"D'ya like pie?" Ichimaru asked smoothly, pushing the purple box in the smaller male's direction. Toushiro lifted his eyes to scrutinize the colourful container, and then moved his gaze up, up to meet the man's one, a bashful sprinkle of pink heating up those pale cheeks.

"I-I couldn't-… Besides, I already ate. I'm not really hungry." The protest was killed in an embarrassingly loud stomach rumble and the boy's face reddened even more, one arm wrapping protectively around what probably was a very empty stomach. Ichimaru just chuckled and thrust the box back in the stripper's hands.

"Ya could use some sugar. Take it." He paused, musing over something for a moment, and then added. "Besides, I dun like cherries much anyways. Eat up."

And so Gin never really got to taste the pie after all.

He found that his company that afternoon kept his appetite at bay quite successfully instead…

* * *

><p><strong>Act Four (The Beginning): <strong>Dream

**4.**

…_She wraps those hands around that pole,  
>She licks those lips and off we go,<br>She takes it off nice and slow..._

_The room smelled of musk and fragrant candles – a cocktail of scents that was as enthralling as it was heavy – and the quaint, vermillion warmth that was dripping off the walls and the ceiling similarly to invisible melted wax, was now draping over Ichimaru's body and keeping him still underneath its venomous shroud. He wasn't sure where he was exactly or how he had got there, but something was whispering in his ear in a lilting, mellifluous voice that this was 'Nocturnal', that this was where he was supposed to be now – of all places – and that the mere thought of leaving was ridiculous in itself. Besides… why, for what reason or purpose, would he want to go? Everything about the room felt right, it felt good, comforting; it seemed to alleviate any pain, worry or anger that could've infected his otherwise strong, young body. It was like millions of breaths were swirling around his being, caressing and healing the dents and wounds that his job had left upon his frame, one by one, through the endless years. Invisible fingers stroke his tired skin, his exhausted and wasted muscles, his sleepless and tortured mind, restoring some erstwhile glory and power of theirs that even the man himself had forgotten had ever existed…_

…_And then his eyes fell on the slick, shiny pole podium that was stretching languidly like the spine of a slumbering animal a mere meter or two away from, and he felt something inside his stomach leap. From the red-and-white fumes of some downy cloud of smoke that was framing his vision, a familiar figure emerged, climbing on the scene with cat-like ease that made the man's mouth run dry._

"_Pet…?"_

_Toushiro just smiled that alluring little smile of his and stood up straight, the soft glow in the pit of those jade eyes telling a thousand times more than any words ever could. He could see the suggestion that laid there, the questions and the pleas for approval; he could sense a desperate, uncontrollable willingness, devotion, cry, _need_. __**I want you, **__those now dark, sinfully dark orbs were chanting now, __**I want you to watch me, I want you to touch me, kiss me, take me… Please… **__And as the smoke pulled back, almost afraid to stand in the way, Ichmaru realized that he simply possessed no strength to refuse this boy. Clad tight black pants with a pair of freely hanging suspenders by the sides of his legs, sinfully smooth knee-high boots, a white button-up shirt with a dark tie and a hat, Toushiro looked like he had just been cut from the front page of an erotic magazine._

_And the worst part was that the teen seemed to know it…_

_Pushing out just the tip of his tongue to lick the corner of his mouth in a painfully slow manner, the stripper lifted one, glove-clad hand in the air and snapped his bare fingers, the sound echoing like a desperate cry in the silence of the room. What felt like half a second later, the first cords of a loud rock song exploded around the room, taking more chunks of reality away along with it. Giggling softly at what must've been a very surprised expression on Gin's face, Toushiro stepped towards the nearest pole and wrapped his digits around it, his brows making a small leap towards his hairline as he allowed he slowly circled the iron bar, his free hand trailing along his clothed collar-bone and then to his shoulder._

"_You've been waiting for this haven't you?" the stripper's voice sounded odd, sultry, knowing, but Ichimaru couldn't be bothered to think about the peculiar tinged underneath it at the moment, for his eyes and mind were riveted elsewhere. Twisting his body till his hand that was gripping the pole was above his head, Hitsugaya slowly slid down to the floor, opening his knees nice and wide in process in a sinfully expressive gesture of surrender. His free finger were working the shirt open, a button after a button, and with every passing second the man could see more and more of that delicious skin, more white, more soft, flawless ivory flesh. And then Toushiro's top was gone, thrown away and discarded god knew where, and the teen's beautifully shaped torso was bare to the world, its tattooed side standing out prettily against the pale background. Within the blink of an eye the boy was on his feet again, dragging a single finger down the cold body of the iron as he stared at his eager viewer. "You've been **dying **to have me, just for you…"_

_Something like anger tried to emerge from the depths of Gin's chest – a hot, boiling hot sensation that protested, and yet agreed – but he allowed nothing to come out of his mouth. No objections. Instead, he watched as the stripper hooked a knee around the pole gracefully, letting his weight be supported by merely one outstretched arm as he spun around the bar fluidly, lifting his other foot off the floor as well till his body represented one beautiful picture of perfectly build muscles and lean, flexible limbs. The tie was still there around his neck, the man noticed, as Toushiro lowered himself to the floor, remaining still and seated on the podium for a moment, only to slowly, nearly impossibly so, raise his leg above his head in a perfectly straight line, and then reach to slide the zipper of his boot down._

"_Do you want to make me yours? Do you want to lick and bite every inch of my skin till it's raw from your kisses, and aching for your touches?" the stripper folded a bare foot under his body, and then casually lifted his other one to repeat the motion – a trick that he performed with his eyes drifting ever so often in the man's direction. "Or maybe not… Because you know that it wouldn't be enough… It can never be... You want to watch me succumb to you, fall on my knees and beg for the mercy of having you pound me into oblivion… You want to be everything for me. My whole world."_

"_Pet…" Ichimaru tried again, but his words were lost. He had forgotten how to speak, how to gasp, how to yell… He was a mesmerized and inhuman monument with no future, no past, no presence… other than the unearthly creature before him. _

_Hitsugaya's back hits the flat, immaculate surface of the little stage, only to arch off it with something that painfully resembled a needy moan, and he turned his head in Gin's direction, reaching with one hand for him, pleading with his eyes for lenience, for comfort. _

"_Please… I need it." The teen whimpered lowly, fanning out his fingers for emphasize and then curling them weakly back together, as though in search for another hand that wasn't there to touch his. His body was the sight of perfection: lean, yet deliciously small, covered with milky white flesh that was now barely flushed from the mild exertion and something that dangerously resembled arousal. His hat had rolled away to the floor, unnoticed, and the snowy wisps had spilled everywhere, covering the half-lidded eyes and the slightly sweaty forehead, creating a deviant and salacious creature out of something that was born to be nothing but pure, nothing but an untouched and innocent piece of art. Another whine, this one a little louder, and the boy writhed expressively, biting his lower lip as he slumped back against the podium as though defeated, reduced to mere shreds without someone else… **Gin**'s arms to support him._

_Oh, fuck… This was wrong. This was so wrong, so strange, so-_

"_**Please!**" Toushiro sounded like he was in pain now, his smooth chest heaving with heavy, agonizing inhalations and exhalations that he seemed to be unable to keep under control. Pools of limpid turquoise had turned cloudy, desperate for attention, desperate for a touch. "Please… Please,** I can't-**" I can't, I can't, I can't… It was like the boy simply couldn't fathom why Ichimaru wasn't giving him what he wanted, couldn't understand where this cruelness and unreasonable restraint came from… And when another torturous minute passed by, and the bartender still didn't move, the stripper pushed himself on his elbows, slowly slinking his legs to the edge of the stage._

"_Wait-" but his words died away as the teen stumbled in his direction, landing a little too limply in his lap. Ichimaru's arms wrapped around the little frame instantly, instinctively, and for a moment he and the boy just stood like that, pressed together in a sinfully heated embrace till Hitsugaya started to wriggle. Assuming that the stripper had decided to get up, the barman let go of the naked waist, frowning in surprise when instead of raising from the man's knees, Toushiro only adjusted himself more comfortably, slinking a single slim leg around either of Ichimaru's sides till he could properly lock his ankles at the small of his client's back. Before Gin could even think about protesting, the stripper had moved forward, allowing their hard groins to clash in a mix of slight pain and absolutely devastating pleasure._

"_Oh, God, that's it…" Toushiro's eyes disappeared behind two identical pale veils and he threw his head back, slender neck exposed for the man's delight and deliciously bitten lips parting in need. "Oh, oh, it's so good…" Thrusting his clothed erection back towards Gin's equally longing one, the boy ground against the man hard and desperate, careless for the rough fabrics that stood in the way. His hips were moving exactly right, with the perfect pace and in the perfect rhythm to make them both feel great, and underneath the amazing sensation all attempts for halting this 'mistake' of theirs were dislodging, falling apart like the foundations of a crumbling building. Disgrace, inhibitions, worries, neither of these mattered – only the person you were pressed against, only the flesh that you yearned for so desperately, and the high peak of pleasure that you were striving to climb. The delectable friction, as uncomfortable as it was when produced with such obstacles in the way, had Gin panting in minutes, reaching to grasp his partner's narrow waist as Hitsugaya continued crushing their cocks against one another, kneading the throbbing members in circular and hard movements. The temperature between their bodies was rising by the second, mingling breaths and the desire for something simple to accompany this act of lust adapting the form of one last, yet unreachable wish: the need for a kiss._

"_We can't…" Ichimaru couldn't even believe his own words as he grunted them out, slipping his hands to the teen's behind and pulling Toushiro's ass even further forward as he rubbed himself between the kid's lewdly spread legs as eagerly as the stripper was doing so himself. He could feel it building up, the wet, scorching hot need for more, and the sight of the smaller male, writhing shamelessly against him, craving a release for his twitching cock even more desperately than Gin did… it was driving the man crazy._

"_More, more, harder…" the boy mewled sweetly and as he reached to take a hold of Ichimaru's shoulders, the bartender realized – if a little belatedly – that he had taken over the control of their ministrations, and was now pressing himself as forcefully as he could against the tiny body before him, searching for the much coveted relief with everything that he was. Toushiro's pink little nipples – such a tempting sight now, hardened and ready to be tortured into submission – made him groan and he bent down to draw his tongue against one of the little buds before taking it into his mouth. The diminutive stripper hissed at the ministration, obviously not having expected to be stimulated there, but the caress was not unwelcomed, and soon the boy's moans had grown even louder. "Oh, God, don't stop- Don't stop!"_

_Growling against the tiny nipple that he was biting and sucking on so cruelly, Ichimaru pulled back to look in the pair of misty teal eyes._

"_Say my name." the man ground out, reaching to pinch the other sensitive little bud. "I want to hear ya say it!"_

"_I-I-" for the first time that night, the bartender sensed hesitation in the supposedly confident performer, a hint of uncertainty that could literally be smelled in the air. And to make his point clearer, he moved his hands to the boy's ass and held it there, keeping the teen from moving his raging, weeping erection against his own desperately leaking one. "N-no… Please, I can't, I need-"_

"_SAY it!"_

"_Oh, God…" squeezing his eyes shut, the boy exhaled shakily through his nose before looking back at his partner with the desperation of a hungry, insatiable beast. At that moment, caged between the uncontrollable desire to come and the intensity of the moment, Toushiro was truly, completely, utterly his. And nothing could take that away from him…_

_And then one name rolled off those sweet, succulent lips._

_One name._

_But it wasn't Gin's._

"_Renji…"_

Ichimaru jumped awake in his bed with a start, panting quietly as he reached to touch his face, his sweat-dewed hair, his throbbing temples. In the confines of his room – dark, thanks to the blinds and the curtains that he had allowed himself to spare money for some time ago – he could make out nothing… but the need for a proof of where he was and what was real was undesired...

He winced, shifting around as he realized just how hard he was and how sticky his underwear felt. God, he needed to come so badly.

* * *

><p><strong>Act Four (And a Half)<strong>: After-party

**4.5**

Two days off.

Ichimaru had taken _two_ days off after that incident at Renji's place. And he _never_ took days off, _ever_, because no matter how tired he was, how much he _craved_ to spend just one night in his bed instead of mixing drinks and serving old rich men their alcoholic poison, he practically survived on tips, earning a little something every evening so he could make it somehow till his next salary in one healthy piece.

But this time… this time he hadn't had a choice.

He wanted to make himself believe that this was all just a coincidence, that he had been too exhausted, too worn out after so many months, _years_ of constant working behind 'Nocturnal''s slick bar counter and he had therefore decided to take a break… That's what he told every person who insisted on asking, his boss included, and it was also the thing that he had been trying to drill into his own head for almost three days now. The truth, though? The truth was that deep inside even _he_ had to admit that facing Toushiro was something that bothered him so much, _so much,_ that he had been forced to bolt himself in his burrow of a flat like a coward just to avoid a potential trouble. Guilt and conscience weren't something that he generally did – or even attempted to do – those were things that only people with enough money and prospects could afford themselves to feel, and yet… And yet he could still sense the persistent mite of self-condemnation chewing on his diseased body from the inside. He had gone too far, he had said too much, and in one single moment, as the words were still oscillating in the thick air inside the truck, he had hated and yearned for Toushiro's hurt-filled jade orbs with everything that he was and everything that he would ever be. More than anything in his entire life, he had despised, desired and pitied the thin night creature in front of him, wondering briefly if he had lost his reason as a punishment for everything else that he had ever done and the mistakes that he was planning to make. Those sweet lips, parted with the shock of pain and accumulating anger, the unshed tears that clung to the teen's orbs with the sheer strength of the boy's tortured will, and the tiny little fingers, milky white and trembling, all of this was painted in Ichimaru's memory, along with a horrifying sensation that the bartender could only define as a _need_. A need so strong, so powerful and overwhelming, that he felt consumed, crushed, brought to his knees just by remembering its fading flavor…

…He hadn't had a choice but to stay away, if just for the short while that he could afford.

As he entered 'Nocturnal' the first night after his short absence – a little late for reasons that he couldn't even properly put into words – he was surprised to find the place practically empty, scarcely clothed and bored-looking girls strolling around the club and grousing between each other about the inert beginning of their 'work day'. Without any clients in the immediate vicinity, there was no need for loud music, and so the volume was turned down to a quite modest level, giving the area a café kind of atmosphere instead of the debauched scent of a small sin city that usually swirled like a misty toxin around the bar.

At the back of the room, somewhat indiscernible in comparison to his surroundings, there was Toushiro, perched on the edge of the pole podium and dangling his boots-clad feet above the floor. He had opted for fewer chains and overall almost no accessories today, but whether because Gin was used to define the boy's style as peculiar or because of some other reason that couldn't be pinpointed with precision, the man found that his little colleague looked no less eccentric. Hitsugaya was wearing a stark white button-up shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled to the elbows to bare two deliciously nude, pale forearms and a pair of knee-ripped dark trousers that were attached to his narrow hips with a black leather belt. His small hands, donned with the painfully familiar fingerless gloves, were squeezing the rim of his makeshift seat, giving him the general look of a child that was sitting on top a fence in the middle of a hot summer afternoon. As the first impression wore off, however, allowing more details to touch Ichimaru's attention, the innocent radiance that the teen had stricken him with dissolved to powder as he finally noticed the thick, metal-studded dog collar choker which the boy was wearing around his neck.

One single element and the whole outfit changed to unrecognizable magnitudes…

Sinful.

Debauched.

_Fuckin perfect_ for this place.

And yes… Hitsugaya was as attractive as they got, and more. _So much more_. He was pure like a freshly fallen snow, and yet impure with the dirt of the world that he had landed in; he was a soldier on the battlefield of life, as well as a resigned, wounded kid that had long ago fallen prey to higher forces; someone so easy to _want _to hurt, to watch crumble under the weight of harsh words and actions, and so tempting to need, to desire, to care for... And when their gazes met from across the bar, accidentally, or drawn by some other invisible force, Gin felt something tighten in the pit of his stomach. What flashed across the boy's face, if for no more than a split second, looked like disappointment.

Disappointment that Ichimaru was here, that he wasn't absent like the previous day, wasn't going to save them both the torture of being in the same building for an unbearable amount of time… A bitter taste dissipated in the man's mouth at the thought of being so unwelcomed, so _unwanted_ and his grin became stony. Making his way to his usual working place, he made sure not to show any signs of the remonstration that was boiling inside his chest, settling himself behind the bar counter with the usual casualness that had become such a notorious trait of his character years ago... He had too many things on his mind to spend so much time on musing over this child. Too much trouble. Too _damn _much. And now that they had settled things, however ugly that had been to witness or experience, they could and _would_ move on. Once and for all.

At least that's what he told himself as he pushed the jacket off his shoulders and prepared for the approaching night.

* * *

><p>When 40minutes later the front door opened and an awkwardly fidgeting guy entered the place, each and every one of the bar's staff turned in his direction, hopeful and slightly impatient expressions fleeting across their previously bored faces without any hint of shame. However, the half-hidden glow of excitement that had sparkled in the girls' eyes was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, replaced by a look of utter tedium when they noticed the large bouquet of fresh, lush roses that the person was carrying. The familiar logo on his dull and extremely vapid cap spoke volumes to pretty much every person in the room, the only round-the-clock flower-delivery company kindling a memory of some sort in too many heads and too many hearts all in a single moment of time.<p>

The impending scenario was perfectly clear even before the story had begun to unravel.

"This must be the third time this week…" a short, red-headed stripper stated wearily as she crossed her legs with a well-practiced slowness, leaning over the bar counter in Gin's direction in order to get the man's attention. "It's getting a little weird."

"What?" Ichimaru scoffed with a lazy raise of his brow, reaching to arrange the unused glasses with a series of distracted and unnecessary movements. "One o' Akane's suitors again?"

For a trice the girl just gave him a funny look, asking him in her silent way if he was joking, but then realization dawned on her and she nodded her head thoughtfully, her glossy lips forming a small 'o'.

"That's right. You've been absent."

"I've been absent fo' what?" the bartender asked calmly, not entirely worried that he could've missed on some supposedly piquant gossip. "Anotha' desperate grandpa, hunting fo' a pretty airhead from our lovely lil club?"

"Hunting, yes, but about the grandpa part I'm not so sure…" her voice trailed off with a tinge of playful amusement and she craned her neck to nod back at what was happening behind her. "Just watch."

Fumbling for a minute with the signature form that he was carrying with himself, the delivery guy checked for what was probably the fifth time that night if his information was correct and this was indeed the address that he was given. The light blush across his cheeks, along with the uncertain way in which he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other spoke enough about how uncomfortable the place was making him feel and how much he hoped that he had mistaken some nice and decent flat for this club. And yet nobody really found it in themselves to take pity on the tortured man. Instead, someone silently turned down the volume of the music to an even lower degree, several pairs of blatantly staring eyes now directing with unbidden expectation at the visitor as though they were expecting him to pull a bunny out of his very ugly cap. Nothing of the sort happened. By contrast, the attention seemed to have an even worse effect, as a few drops of sweat appeared on the deliverer's temples and he had to squint against the name of the person he was supposed to give the bouquet to, to decipher what was written on his papers – a sight which amused Ichimaru beyond belief, prompting the bartender to lean against the counter on his elbows, a low chuckle threatening to seep between his lips. Prudish employees were always the best thing to witness…

…Or so he thought.

"Is there a… Hitsugaya Toushiro around here?" the man asked carefully, lifting his head to look around the room. With a peculiarly not-surprised nod of his head, Toushiro slid deftly off the pole podium and calmly made his way towards the newcomer, face blank and expressionless as though he was going through some routine every-day procedure rather than something as weird as receiving over a dozen red roses from unknown admirer. _What the-… _Ichimaru pushed himself away from the bar counter with a frown, his features twisting in a mix of disbelief and acerbic gall. _The hell does this mean?_

The boy didn't spare anyone a glance as he took the flowers, smiling a little too tightly for the guy as he bestowed his messy signature upon the desired dotted line, and once again nodded, silently assuring the deliverer that he could go. The whole scene occurred for less than three minutes – a mere crumb of time in the beginning of a long night of unexpected events- but as Gin watched the smaller male turn around on his heel and stroll mechanically towards the dressing rooms, he could swear that his otherwise tall, young body had aged with at least a century.

"Pet…" he growled as the teen passed by the bar with a bit too obvious determination to get away as quickly as he could. "_Toushiro!_"

No reply. The red-headed stripper that was still resting her forearms on the counter's slick surface gave him a slightly suspicious, if a little anxious, look, but he found himself unable to take that into account. His attention was entirely, completely, through and through _elsewhere_, and when instead of the defensive answer that he expected to hear from the boy, instead of a waveringly bitter remark or any other signs, _whatsoever_, of some recognition, he got _nothing_, he bristled. It took him about a second after the door closed shut behind Toushiro before he was rounding the bar and headed after the smaller male, his muscles tense with apprehension and anger that were definitely not supposed to be there. His head was an empty field, a vastness of nothing that was merely filled with some odd, deafening sound that throbbed in his eardrums and granted his senses useless. There was a new kind of emotion bubbling in his chest, iron-hot and rough, and resilient, and acid, it was twisting the world before his eyes and giving him one aim. One purpose. So he obeyed without a word of protest to whatever these instincts of his were telling him, pushing the dressing room's door open with a bit too much force, only to kick it shut behind himself.

"Who are those from?"

"And hello to you, too." Toushiro replied sourly, already arranging his delicate gift in a vase on the empty table at the back of the room. "Isn't that a great way to greet me after two days of absence? By assaulting my private matters without care or even a remote resemblance of any tact?"

"Dun avoid the question." Ichimaru growled, crossing the space between himself and the boy in a few clamorous steps. _We're not done here… _Before he could reach for the card that was placed tastefully amidst the flowers, Hitsugaya snatched the piece of paper and held it behind his back, indignation and annoyance twisting his brows in a very specific, vulnerable kind of expression that always ended up making the teen seem even smaller.

"It's none of your business. Let it go." The stripper declared a little shakily, his lips pulling at the ends dismally. "If this is how you're going to treat me – as something that you not only despise but also refuse to share with anyone else – then I'm out. This isn't a game I want to play."

"This ain't no game, pet, I'm serious. Ya dun have the slightest idea what kind o' people do these things!" Ichimaru hissed, fists clenching by his sides as he took another step forward, the unusual aggression that defined his whole frame at the moment making the smaller male shrink further away from the bartender.

"I'm serious, too, absolutely dead serious. Back off." The boy insisted, clinging to the steadiness of his speech with everything that he was despite the dryness in his throat. "Please, just back off, this isn't-"

"I can't back off, an' ya kno' it!" the man snapped heatedly, _I can't fuckin let it go! _, but much to his surprise, this time the stripper didn't react to his anger, choosing instead to raise an incredulous brow and let out the softest of huffs.

"Do I?" Toushiro whispered, his voice flickering like a dying flame as he stared right back in the bartender's slit eyes. "Do I? Because this isn't how I see it. I _don't know_-… I don't know _anything_ anymore, not a single thing, except that you obviously hate me! That the sight of me makes you sick, that everything I do is wrong, everything I touch is irrevocably infected by the lowlife that I am, _this _is what I know! That's what _you_ keep telling me!"

"Tha's not-"

"-True? _Please_!" the boy scoffed bitterly, shaking his head as he stepped back till his hands were bracing against the table behind him, weariness oozing from every cell in his small, fragile body. "This is all you've been repeating, again and again, drilling it in my head with such incredible persistence that it's all I can think, dream, feel anymore. And don't, _don't_ claim it isn't what you wanted, because I don't think I can take another lie from you. I just can't."

The silence that draped over them lasted for just a couple of seconds, but it felt much, _much_ longer. Slowly, almost painfully so, Ichimaru felt the barely controllable infuriation drain from his system, replaced by a certain type of bleak despondency that brought back exhaustion and just a small hint of frustration along with it.

"What do ya want from me?" he muttered softly, if a little provocatively. The boy's breath hitched for merely a trice before evening out again, turning smooth and rhythmical similarly to the one of a half-sleeping person.

"An apology, I guess. But it's too much to ask. You won't do it." Toushiro smiled cheerlessly, a deep sigh tearing painfully from his chest like an agonizing cry, and his eyes slid shut, hiding behind their pale veils. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, smooth, filled with assurance that the man felt that he did not deserve. "They are from Renji. He's been sending me a bouquet every night since his party, although I warned him that I wouldn't be responding to his gestures of… affection. Or whatever. You needn't worry. Unlike you, I cannot promise my heart to a person that I will never give it to. It's just the way I am."

And with that, Toushiro slipped by the man's side and headed for the door, the tiny card still clutched in his gloved hand. Behind him, Ichimaru felt something in his stomach grow cold like a bloke of ice.

For the first time since he had proposed to Amanda, he regretted that decision with every fiber of his being.

* * *

><p><strong>Act Eleven:<strong> Epilogue

**11.**

When the last repairman, technician and builder was gone for the day, Ichimaru finally allowed himself to sigh and slump in the nearest chair, a satisfied kind of exhaustion washing over his tall body and making his muscles hum contently. Slit eyes trailed around the room, distracted, yet wary, taking into account as many details and as many potential flaws as possible despite the fact that he had already checked these things quite a few times during the last couple of hours. Slick, black surfaces, stylish furniture and well-thought designs swam before his gaze, depicting the almost completed picture of his dream-bar and filling him up with an odd sense of pride and accomplishment.

A month, two at most, and he could officially open the doors and get the business started… he could finally, _finally_ begin working something that didn't make him feel like an insect that was scrambling to plunge into some crack in the floor whenever the light was turned on. 'Nocturnal', Jay, Aiko and all those greasy, leering men, that was all behind him, and most of all… Most of all behind Toushiro. _It sounds almost unreal… _And now that he looked back at what had happened, he couldn't help it but think that at the end of the day, he'd rather have pushed his little white-haired prince out of the hellhole and stayed there himself, than crawl out on his own and leave the kid behind. The boy had needed a way out much more than he had, and maybe because of that… because he had understood this on some subconscious level, he had broken off the engagement with Amanda and thrown his escape key away. Leaving without Hitsugaya had been, and still was, simply unthinkable.

Curling his fingers around the armrests of his chair, Ichimaru let a thin thread of memories and recent and not so recent scenes flash behind his eyes, most of them hardly relevant and hardly very interesting if presented to some side-viewer. But they meant something for him, as odd as it was to admit this after so many years of refusing to give himself a chance to feel anything other than greed, other than cynicism, other than soul-eating ambition, and now that his stony heart had been replaced with an actual, beating one, he failed to be disgusted by how amazing it was to just bask for a few moments in the knowledge that he wasn't alone in the world anymore. That there was a person beside him, clumsy, and nervous, and unable to tie their shoes, but a kind-hearted and sweet person nonetheless. Someone who loved him enough to take him with open arms in spite of everything imperfect and cruel about his corrupted, poisoned character, someone who could understand his twisted way of loving and not push him away or resent him for all the things that he had done wrong… All the hurt that he had ended up causing, not only to the one person that he cared about, but to himself as well.

Because being loved was always harder than loving someone else.

Vaguely, Ichimaru registered a soft knock on the door and for a moment he was reluctant to get up and answer it, waiting for a couple of seconds till the curiosity and the distant suspicion of who might've come at this hour prompted his to move. Standing up and making his way towards the front of the future bar, the man heard the distinctive sound of a fist banging against hard surface repeat a couple of times, and then Toushiro's voice reached his ears, shouting his name with a little too much excitement for this to be just a random dropping by. _Hm?_ The distant thought that he was forgetting something nudged at the back of his mind, but he failed to remember, still lost in his previous contemplations to recall whatever it was that needed recalling.

"Pet-" he began coolly, the very epitome of maturity and dignity, as he pulled the door open for his diminutive boyfriend. Before he could finish his sentence, though, he found himself reeling backwards with an armful of Toushiro, a blur of white flashing in front of his eyes as the smell of fresh grapefruits and apples enveloped him in a much too intoxicating embrace.

"I got the part!" the boy screeched slightly hysterically, pulling back just enough to allow Gin to shut the door before he was all over the man again, hopping like a child to wrap his legs around the taller male's waist. "I got my first part! I got the part, Gin, can you believe it? Can you? Oh, my GOD!"

And then Toushiro had planted his lips to the older male's ones similarly to a hungry little leech, his contagious excitement filling up the whole place and brightening up its dark confines in an almost surrealistic manner. For a trice Ichimaru was too startled, too shocked to respond properly to what he had just been told… but as the boy's mouth ripped from his own, only to attack it voraciously, _avidly_ once again, he found himself abandoning any thought or question that he had been planning to voice earlier. It could all wait. Everything could wait. _How have I lived without this before…? _The illogical feeling that the world was dissolving beneath his feet attacked his senses, making everything material and solid melt in its own insignificance in the brief comparison to this one kiss, this one simple show of affection, and he plunged deeper, seeking this drowning emotion, the desperation, the need, the fear that it wouldn't last as though it was the last thing that he could taste before some imminent verdict... In one single moment, he was brave, and he was a coward, and he was a slave, and a king, and an adult, a child, a demon, a guardian… The scent, the flavor, the feel that was purely and completely Toushiro, _so unique and addicting_, reduced the usually composed and calm man to a ravenous and insatiable lover in less than half a minute. It was a madness that would never change and a madness that he would never give up. For it was the only sane thing in this whole crazy world…

Releasing a small groan, Gin slid his hands from his boyfriend's knees to his ass and squeezed, enjoying the way the smaller male purred in his arms at the treatment. Tiny, timid fingers cupped the man's jaw in response, a certain delicious kind of shyness suddenly consuming the previous urgency of the kiss in something that felt inescapable and more real than anything else that could ever exist. Leaning forward, the bartender pressed Toushiro's back against the door and dragged his teeth across the boy's lips, swallowing any gasp and moan till all that the shorter lad could do was pant quietly, defeatedly under the tantalizing sensations. And then the uncontrollable, incinerating heat – something that they were yet to learn to resist to - started fading away, cooling down to a soft warm glow that pulsed between their heaving chests with everything that their bodies craved and ached for at this moment.

"Later?"

"Yes, you should, um-"

"Right."

Placing his lover gently on the floor, Ichimaru stepped back to watch with a bit of a knowing grin as the boy straightened himself, his pale cheeks tinted with a watery shade of pink that made him look all the more young and unblemished. A silky, white rose-petal that had survived through the filth and corruption of the underworld, and remained just as luscious and as immaculate as before. The bite marks that 'Nocturnal''s jaws had left in this child's skin were healing, the scars were going to disappear, and just being there to see that happen was a reason enough for the man to believe that he would be cured, too. He had a lifetime before him to hope and struggle for that, and for once, he could meet the future without a bitter taste in his mouth and the dull fear that he'd have to sacrifice more than he physically could.

Hitsugaya's movements seemed a little uncoordinated as he bent down to pick the backpack that he had apparently dropped upon attacking the older man earlier, but by now Gin found the sight nothing but endearing. In fact, as the boy went past him and deeper inside the soon-to-be-club, chirping about exactly what the jury had told him and how surprised he had been of the praise he had received, the fox realized that Toushiro's awkwardness regarding certain things was just one of his many charms. A quality that made him easy to be cared for, and a trait that would forever keep him a little bit of a child and a lot more of an artist.

"-and the main guy said that if I was as impressive on the stage as I was at the casting, he'd consider a bigger role for me for one of his next plays." The boy reached the bar counter and swiftly flung his bag on top of it, turning around on his heel to eye his lover anxiously. "You'll come to watch me when the time comes, right?"

Adapting a thoughtful expression for a moment, Ichimaru reached to chuck his chin with his index finger, a low 'hmm' squeezing between his grinning lips and making the smaller male frown and fold his arms in front of his chest dissatisfiedly.

"What will ya be playin'"

"I already told you!"

"Well, tell me again."

Toushiro sighed dramatically and switched his weight to his right foot – a posture that depicted the very paragon of a brewing storm.

"Puck. 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. Ring a bell?"

"So… ya'll be playin' a fairy, huh?"

"Ha. Ha. Gin, you are _so_ funny… I'm actually surprised you know the plot at all."

"Course I do. Amanda made me go to some of those crazy stuff, pretty much the same way ya're makin' me do now."

The slog that he received in his arm as a punishment for those horrible words was surprisingly hard, but as the man caught a glimpse at his boyfriend's gravely offended expression, he couldn't help it but chuckle deeply.

"O'right, o'right, she didn' make me do anythin' I jus' read the plays as a kid. 'm only messin' with ya."

Another slog.

"You're an asshole!"

"An' ya're a bitch, but I love ya anyways. Not that I have a choice – ya chased the richer bitch away a while ago so I kindda ended up stuck with ya."

At this point Toushiro decided that the gentle foreplay was enough and began to dutifully hit every unprotected inch of Ichimaru's torso, arms and shoulders with his tiny fists, his face a little flustered with the still resilient remnants of the hurt and jealousy, and betrayal, that he had been forced to battle more than once because of the man in front of him. Snickering lowly at the easily predictable reaction, the older lad allowed this rumpus to continue for another ten seconds or so, and the deftly seized his lover's wrists to hold the boy still in front of him.

"Stupid joke. Got it." He muttered appeasingly, arching a brow when Hitsugaya shot him an annihilating glare, obviously still reluctant to relax and let the incident slip. "Didn' want to spoil yer mood. Honestly. What I meant to say is-…" he paused, his grin fading away into an earnest expression as he bent a little so he could be closer to the boy's eyelevel. "I'm so proud of you. And also, I never doubted you'd make it."

_Oh. _Toushiro's features softened up very slowly, very gradually, a peculiar kind of relief emerging on his face instead of the previously guarded and wounded expression as he finally let out an audible sigh and slumped against his lover's chest. Ichimaru could feel the slightly racing pulse against his body, and briefly, he wondered what could've caused it… And then the realization came, and he tensed, the ineluctable, painful twist in his stomach momentarily breaking his breathing rhythm. It was a type of guilt that the boy would never understand, for he had never been the one causing the damage – he had always been on the receiving end of the wick, and he had melted away, like a thin and frangible candle, under the languid, but constant heat of the flame. Gin had done everything that he had been able to think of to get this child to quit the one job that he had been the least (and yet the most…) suited for. The problem was that along the way, in synchrony with so many supposedly good-natured deeds, the man had allowed his frustration and disappointed, and his own ambition, as well as the hope for something more, to pour out on Toushiro's head. To drown him under too much salt and too much water, and cut a wound that only the bartender himself had been able to make deep enough.

And that was a mistake that Gin simply couldn't afford to forget.

…For a minute they were still, silent, moulded against one another, and then Ichimaru's spindly arms slowly wrapped around the smaller lad's waist, and they were swaying a little, moving ever so slightly in time with some soundless melody. Hitsugaya's hands were still pressed between them, but neither of them cared, too lost in the silliness of their little break from the world to care about how they looked. In the end of the day, they were both survivors: unequal, different, both weak and strong in their own ways. But it was the differences that brought them together, and it was the similarities that didn't matter at all when it came to their unusual relationship, and they knew it. They accepted it, too.

"How are you going to call it?"

"Hm?"

"The club. How are you going to call it." Toushiro susurrated gingerly, his tone resembling the one of a child who was sharing a secret as he lifted his gaze up to meet his lover's eyes. "I know you've thought about it."

Ichimaru's grin widened just a bit, a ticklish hint of humour nudging at the edges of his lips as he considered briefly whether to spill or not. Hitsugaya's expectant orbs – two pools of curiosity that seemed specifically designed to make him yield to any wish imaginable – had him deciding within merely a second or two.

"Snow White."

The boy spluttered and pulled back, halting their little dance with a firm, almost accusing hand on the man's chest.

"Are you _serious_?" Toushiro whispered disbelievingly, one brow arching while the other dipped in exaggerated suspicion. The vivid expression only made his lover chuckle and tilt his head to the side like he was maybe trying to communicate with a hilarious little puppy rather than a grown-up person.

"I thought bout callin' it 'Pocahontas', but then I figured I'd sort of be stealin' somethin' that's more of yer idea than mine. So I went fo' anotha Disney princess instead."

"So creative." The boy stated drily, rolling his eyes when his lover reached to equivocally thread his fingers through the smaller male's pure white locks. "Don't think I don't get that you're indirectly mocking me."

"Who's mockin' ya, Snowy-chan?" the man purred playfully, but when Toushiro let out a half-muffled growl and made a move to pull away, Gin just slipped his hands back to the smaller male's hips and held him firmly in place. '"Haven' ya learned mah ways of adoration by now, hm? Ya're makin' me look bad."

"I have." The boy stated firmly, making no attempt to free himself despite the strict look that he was now giving his lover. "All of them. Which just proved that you're not getting much upgrades."

"Aw, ya're cruel."

"Gin…" Toushiro spoke up suddenly, his voice trailing off in uncertainty, losing a tad bit of its previous half-serious nature in favor of something darker. "Do you think that something would've become… of us… if that friend of yours hadn't left us so much?"

Ichimaru's smile dimmed at that question, his grip around the boy's sides tightening involuntarily, as though he was trying to keep something flimsy and unreal from slipping between his fingers rather than clinging to an actual, breathing person that was currently standing before him. He could feel his lover's gaze on him grow slightly anxious at the reaction, but he couldn't find it in himself to pretend that this hadn't come to his mind before as well.

"I'm not sure." He muttered finally. "I jus' kno' that I wouldn' have been able to share ya any longer. Not afta that night."

"Why?" the boy asked, his voiced soaked with some distant, bittersweet element of the memory. "Every night, every time, I was dancing for you. For you, and no one else."

Ichimaru let out a small sound between laughter and a huff, solid taunt filling that indefinite noise to the brim, only to spill into the nothingness as the man leaned forward to press his lips against his lover's forehead. _Mine, _he wanted to grind out a bit too savagely. _Ya're mine, an' I'll let no one take ya away from me. _But it wasn't even possessiveness, it wasn't jealousy or envy that mattered at this moment, it was so much more than that, and so much more than many different, yet plain emotions. Too complex. Too elaborated, and yet too natural to be put into words.

"I kno', pet… An' tha's why it wasn' fair that ya hated it. It jus' fuckin' wasn't..." He paused for a trice, and then the solemnness drained from his voice (a little forcefully this time), the previous warm hue of gaiety creeping again into the very essence of his behavior. "Now I got ya ta dance fo' me, an' me only, wheneva I want, fo' as long as I decide."

Toushiro just laughed at that, because for once – Gin had got something right.

**The End.**

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><p><em><strong>AN: I'm gonna miss this story. *tears up* I'm sick and miserable: for one, because I'm sick, and two, because this story is over, so cheer me up with nicey comments. **_

_**...I feel so dependent on you, guys. *sneeze*  
><strong>_


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